


Leather and Lace

by ladylaufeyson1



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Freyja is a bad bitch, Heavy Angst, Love, Romance, Sad, Sifki - Freeform, everything stands in the way of their happiness, warfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylaufeyson1/pseuds/ladylaufeyson1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place immediately after The Dark World. </p><p>The burden of the throne has fallen to Loki. Despite the fact that he would like nothing more than to leave the realm permanently, undeniable feelings for a certain warrior maiden ultimately keeps him behind. When Sif's true feelings for the trickster surface, all sorts of chaos is wrought. A villain from Loki's past returns, and his chance at true happiness becomes slimmer than ever...</p><p> </p><p>(This fic is currently under construction. Once the new chapter is added (19), please consider re-reading from the beginning. This was my first fic and I love it. I could not add a new chapter to it without first mass-editing and correcting all of the horrible grammar. THANK YOU for your comments and continued support, I am sorry it has taken so long! 10/2/17)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burdened with Glorious Purpose.

The raven haired God of Mischief slumped lazily against the gilded walls of the Allfather's bedchambers. He stared mindlessly out at the leaves falling from the pink blossom trees in the north gardens, his arms crossed firmly across his chest, his expression vacant. After several minutes of brooding, he crossed the room to a large wooden desk, a desk laden heavily with carvings mimicking the branches of Yggdrasil. His pained eyes darted across the fine wood as he traced the engravings lightly with his fingertips, admiring the detail of it now just as much as he had as a child. His fingers slowly found their way to a small drawer hidden in the side of the escritoire, a drawer he used long ago to exchange secret messages with his mother. He sighed loudly as he retrieved a quill and leather bound parchment journal.

_Odin was right. Gods, we are not. We are born, we live and in time, we die._

_As a child I was known within the halls of Asgard to be friendly, spry – even happy, despite the fact that in years to come I would be labeled as a monstrosity; feared by those who once claimed they cared. As time passed I realized of my own accord and not to my own surprise that I was indeed different and not at all like those around me. I learned I was not of the same blood as those I considered family. As I continued my search for truth I stood many days alone in the shadow of my witless brother Thor – referred to by many as the rightful heir to the throne of Asgard. Yet here I am. And where is he? Residing on Midgard with his mortal. All for a petty and juvenile woman's heart. He truly is the fool I always took him for._

_Before her death, Frigga came to visit my cell, informing me that one day, despite the wishes of Odin, the throne would fall to me. She knew that Thor would take his place among the Midgardians to be with Jane and the Allfather would once again fall into the Odinsleep, perhaps indefinitely. By default, despite my treachery, I would come to rule Asgard._

_After assisting Thor to save Jane Foster in Svartalfheim, I feigned my death to escape a life of imprisonment. I also wished to free my brother, among others, of the burden of my being. I had grown tired of fighting to show the realms a part of me that no one chose to see. Mother was gone. I planned to live out the rest of my days disguised on Vanaheim, traveling between words, leaving the weight of the throne to anyone else who sought it. I did not believe Frigga when she informed me of her prophecies, but they indeed came to fruition. I have returned in time for the Allfather to fall back into the Odinsleep, and for Thor to abandon his responsibility to Asgard. I was never one for timing._  

 _It is a cruel irony that once I relinquished my thirst for the throne, it was thrust back upon me._ _I am forced every day to stand in the room where my mother was murdered. I am forced every day to look into the eyes of a woman whom I have loved for centuries, a woman who would waste no time killing me if she only knew my true identity. Truth be told, I would hope to die no other way._

_The Allfather now sleeps soundly beneath the realm. No one knows of his comatose state except for I, and perhaps Heimdall, though if aware, has yet to make his intelligence known. I have disguised myself as Odin until he wakes or I figure out a way out of this misfortune, though I fear he may never awaken and I may never discover the latter._

_Asgard is the imprisonment I sought to escape. Asgard is a hell I will never be free from, but it is a hell I deserve._

_For Frigga._

_**For Sif.**_  

_\- L.L._

 

A light knock came upon the door and Loki's transfiguration back into the Allfather was instantaneous. He stood quickly, straightening himself, throwing the journal back into the drawer and slamming it shut.

"Enter," he stifled, coughing as he slapped his chest, forcing his voice to properly drop back into Odin's.

Sif came in slowly, glancing around the door to spot him before she made her full entrance. Her long, tousled brunette locks gave the impression that she had been out riding, the bit in her right hand confirming it. Her iron bodice clung heavily to her chest as she made her way across the room close to where he stood. No matter how many years had passed between them, the mere sight of her never failed to take his breath away.

"Forgive the intrusion, Allfather," she stammered as she bowed, her face as pink as the garden trees. Loki immediately noticed that she had been crying, and judging by the general state of her, she had been crying for quite some time. 

"What is it," he asked, his face concerned as he took a step towards her, nearly forgetting himself entirely at her distress. He had seen her like this less than a handful of times in the many years they had known each other, but it never got easier to witness.

Sif glanced up, thoroughly confused by the king's casual manner and sudden closeness.  

"Please, sit," he said, breaking the intensity of the moment as he pulled a chair from the desk for her. The way she searched his eyes startled him, as if she could see directly through his facade.

"My apologies to come barging in here so unprecedented like this, but I-"

"Your apologies are not necessary. What troubles you, Lady Sif?"

Sif sat down reluctantly in the chair, clenching the bit now draped over her lap. Loki could tell something was quite wrong.

"I wish to be relieved of my duties. I am no longer fit to serve the realm."

"You are one of Asgard's finest warriors," he said calmly, though her request troubled him. She had always taken her responsibilities to Asgard more seriously than anything else. He knew her decision had not been an easy one to make. "May I inquire as to why?"

Sif smiled. Not the kind of smile he was used to from her, the kind of smile that could end wars and bring full grown men to their knees. This smile was distant, and sad. "I fear my heart is broken."

Loki swallowed hard. He suddenly knew why she was here. He knew well who she grieved for. And now, he would be forced to listen to it, to listen to her pine away for her brother while he sat there and pretended to care.  _This is the hell I deserve,_  he repeated in his mind.

"I know he is gone, but I cannot - I cannot sleep. I cannot think clearly," she said quietly, tears freshly staining her cheeks. "I cannot breathe."

He closed his eyes. Even though the rage of jealousy seethed within him, a jealousy he was idiotic enough to believe would pass over the years, attempting to ease her acute unhappiness always gave him far greater relief than stewing in his own misery. After a few moments passed and he was able to gather himself, he spoke as gently as possible. 

"Asgardians are not immune to the ailments of the heart. I realize you must be grieving, and I am sorry for your loss."

"You mean, you know?" she said, glancing up at him with a slightly mortified and incredulous look.

"I have known for many years. I have watched you grow together. I have seen many times the way you look at him. You were a proper match for Thor."

" _Thor?_ " she interjected quickly, on the verge of hysterics. She searched his face frantically to find the words before responding, her mouth agape. "Allfather, I- I was referring to Loki."


	2. Demons and Daggers.

Loki's hands began to visibly shake and no magic would conceal it. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare.

Several awkward minutes passed between the two before he broke the deafening silence.

" _Loki?"_ he finally whispered in shock and complete disgust.

She nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. 

" _Why?"_  

"I am most humiliated by this forthright confession, but I felt I had no other choi-"

"YOU HAD A CHOICE!" he spat angrily at her, paying no mind to his guise. His eyes bitterly locked eyes with hers, all sense of decorum lost. "All of those years you could have told him, you could have -"

Loki stopped as abruptly as he had started. He could so plainly see the despair and regret in her face as the tears fell at his words. It overwhelmed him to see the aching she had in his eyes for him, the real him, not the man standing before her, not the brother he lived his whole life in the shadows of. She wanted _him_ , or at least, she did. He suddenly felt like the fly on the wall in a room he had longed to be in his whole life.

She had been unwell since Thor's absence, but the intense anguish on her face now was nothing he had ever seen. He had spent many recent nights secretly watching over her, making sure she did not drink herself to death in the taverns. He has been so certain the reason for her reckless behavior was because of his brother, never once did the thought cross her mind that _he_ could be the cause of her misery. It was impossible! She was everything good about the nine realms, and he was everything wrong with it. Surely this was some sort of scheme.

"I should not have come," she whispered, eerily calm, a look of intent suddenly crossing her mournful eyes. "I am sorry to have burdened you with my petty troubles when you are still grieving so many losses yourself."

He watched her longingly as she hastily stood from her chair, grabbing the bit from the floor at her side. She glanced around the room frantically as though she were momentarily lost or had somewhere else to be. As she made a quick path for the door, he spoke, and she reluctantly turned, uneasily meeting his eyes once more. 

"Lady Sif, I-," he muttered softly, trying to lessen the blow he had just unintentionally delivered. It was of no use. He found himself wanting to reach for her, wanting to brush the tears from her face and sweep his thumb across her lips.  _It'_ _s me, Sif,_  his eyes said and his heart screamed, but he could not bring himself to reveal his true self. 

"Allfather - I am deeply sorry. For everything," she said, bowing mechanically at him.

Before he could say another senseless word, she was gone. The heavy sound of the door closing behind her was the equivalent to the sound of a thousand flails striking his heart all at once, but the silence of the room where she had just been was the loudest noise of all. What was this trickery? She _must_ have known it was him. Surely she and the warriors were trying to oust him from the throne. They sent her in to deliver the final blow that would inevitably break him, and it had. The game was up. 

He paced the floor for many minutes, trying hard to plan his next move. Things weren't falling into place. How could they have possibly known of his facade, or his feelings for her? He was _never_ obvious about them, or so he thought. A glimmer of hope that her confession might be real pulled too quickly at his heart before that familiar feeling of immeasurable disappointment took over once more. Who was the one who was still able to see through his games from time to time? The one who would have no trouble plotting against him... of using Sif, Asgard's finest warrior, as a means to his end?

"Heimdall."

The rage that lived endlessly inside of him was boiling over now. His one strength all of these years had been the anger that guarded him from all the endless hurt that crossed his path so frequently - it had kept him alive. They all knew how to get under his skin, they knew how to hurt him, time and time again. She was the one who could kill him off the nine realms, and they knew it. 

"FUCK!" he screamed, throwing the heavy wooden chair across the room, his face red and pained with anger, veins protruding from his neck.

Tears of fury stung his eyes. What an actress she was! He wanted to break her in half, to throttle her, to bring her down to his level of complete misery. At that moment, in his anger, nothing would give him more pleasure.

Loki stormed out of Odin's chambers, clambering furiously down the halls. He disguised himself as one of the einherjar and quickly rounded a corner out of plain sight. When he didn't find her in all of her usual haunts, he thundered unthinkingly toward her chambers, wide-eyed and livid in his deteriorating facade.

As he started at the door, it opened slightly, revealing that she had not locked it. _Fool_ , he mouthed to himself. He slipped silently into the dark foyer and hid deviously behind a wide marble column, waiting patiently in the shadows of her bed chambers. 

Suddenly, he heard a muffled cry coming from the direction of her washroom. His stomach dropped. He knew precisely what she was doing, for he had heard that sound come out of her many times before, though never at his hand. For a very brief moment, his anger abated. All that was left was a crushing hurt, the very same hurt he had felt for many years.

Baldur. It must have been Baldur who was now with her. Touching her. Kissing her. Consuming every inch of her. He knew all too damn well that they had shared beds before and, evidently, that had not ceased. The rage began to creep back as fresh tears stung his eyes. He could face a thousand deaths, a thousand, slow, torturous  deaths and he would still prefer any one of them to having to listen to  _this_. The coward in Loki suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave and to run back to Vanaheim – to get as far away as possible, but they both knew of his treachery now. At least this way he could make fools of them both and ruin their tryst, though he was also quite certain the sight of her fucking that imbecile would kill him.

At that moment, a louder cry emerged. There was nothing about this cry that suggested pleasure, and the sound of her agonizing wails instinctively made him run towards the door without the slightest hesitation. Still concealed as the guard, Loki flung the door open to find a scene that promptly brought him to his knees.

A barely conscious Sif lay half naked on the floor of the washroom, bleeding profusely from several places on her arm, her dagger in her opposite hand. 

It appeared that Lady Sif, in all her beauty, in all her wisdom, was trying to die.


	3. Return to Me.

"NO!" Loki roared, his yell echoing loudly off of the stone walls.

He pulled her onto his lap and steadied her against his chest, quickly ripping a nearby cloth and wrapping it tightly around her arm. The blood poured freely from several large wounds. He quickly that he wouldn't be able stop the bleeding, as the cuts were far too deep. Stripping the cloak from his back, he draped it across her barely covered figure, tucking the sides around her.

"Stupid girl, you STUPID FOOLISH GIRL," he spat angrily, shaking her gently as his eyes flooded. He held her closer and squeezed his shaky hand hard around her bandages, trying to focus all of his energies on healing her, though he knew it was fruitless. He was poor at healing and far too distracted. He knew he needed to get up, to run and find proper help, but he couldn't manage to leave her. 

Sif opened her eyes and glanced up at him in an almost trance-like way before closing them again. "I know that voice," her tone was tranquil but resolved. She seemed happy and at peace.

He stiffened. "You don't know anything. You're in a state of shock."

"It is you. I know it is," she smiled, starting to nod off once more. He felt the warmth of her blood against his fingertips and looked down to find the bandages completely soaked through. That was it. He quickly lifted her up in his arms and brought her into the other room to her bed, gently placing her down upon the sheets.

"Stay with me, Sif," he begged, covering her with the blankets at the foot of the bed. "Stay with me."

Still concealed as the guard, Loki darted outside of her chambers to find help. A passing handmaiden was the first to hear his cries and approached him cautiously.

"Lady Sif, she is not well. Fetch the closest healer as quickly as you can." The young girl eyed him cautiously and stood dumbfounded for a moment. He wanted to throttle her. "GO! NOW!"

 

* * *

 

It had been nearly an hour since the healer arrived, which, luckily, did not take very long. Loki paced outside of her chambers, every passing minute feeling like a thousand years. The fact that she might be somehow associated with his usurping the throne and punished for it was the only thing that kept him from barging in and running to her side, his guise be damned. He knew he could be of no use to her, either way. She needed the best chance she could get now, and he, as usual, was not it.

Just as he decided to enter as a handmaiden, the door creaked open, and the healer emerged. He was one of the elder healers, short, rather hunched. Loki had seen the man at some point in his life, though he could not place exactly when or where. He approached him a little too eagerly, but the old man seemed to pay no mind.

"You were lucky you were there when you were – Sir – What did you say your name was?" the healer asked him curiously.

"Er – Sir – Varangot," Loki stammered, remembering the surname of one of Odin's guards.

"No matter, Sir Varangot. I believe you saved this young lady's life. She sleeps now, in great need of rest, but I expect she shall recover," the old man replied, peering up at Loki. Healers, especially the elder ones, were not so easily fooled. They saw things most did not. As he stared up, Loki was certain the man was seeing him then for who he truly was. The thought made him uneasy, but his mind shot back to Sif and he dismissed the old man, thanking him.

Loki opened the door and walked slowly around the bed to her side, being as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. She was breathtaking. He stood staring for several minutes, wondering how someone so intelligent, so captivating, so seemingly blessed, could attempt something so unspeakable. Thankfully her wounds were nearly healed, but what in the nine realms would have caused her to fall to such a state? It still wasn't true, what she had said to him back in Odin's chambers, but at the moment, he felt no anger. Maybe she had lost her mind after all. Perhaps the worst of her battle scars were far beneath her skin. Or maybe, after years of fighting some masked inner demon, she was just as tired as he was.

" _Beautiful Sif_ ," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He pulled up a chair and sat, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, as if by doing so he could keep all of the feelings he had for her from surfacing. He sat pensively for a long while and watched her, his fingers against his lips, his knee bouncing anxiously. He had not had such a privilege in a long time, to watch her while she slept, though he deeply regretted the current circumstances which allowed him to. When they would camp together on hunts or missions he would often stay awake while the others slept, watching her as she dreamed, studying every line and perfect curve of her face. When she was wounded, he wouldn't sleep at all. He would watch the rise and fall of her chest until daybreak, unable to relax until her body stirred and her eyes opened once more. 

As Loki recounted the memories in his head, memories that seemed lifetimes ago, he felt at an odd peace and eventually dozed off into his own slumber.

As he dreamed, he saw Frigga. She was standing in what looked like the Weapons Vault, beaming, holding a staff out for him to take. It was not Gungnir. It was an odd shape, shorter, made entirely of bone white material. It looked shattered in several places, but remained whole. He smiled at his mother. He didn't care for the staff. He only cared that she was there with him, and that she looked well. 

Loki reached his hand out to her, but her smile faded. She dropped the staff and it shattered on the ground, broken into several pieces. He watched as the pieces flew around him and disappeared from the room, followed by the sound of familiar, evil laughter.

He then woke with a start to the sound of Sif rustling in bed. What felt like being asleep for seconds had been hours. He straightened in his chair as he came to, quickly shaking off the odd dream, watching her movements carefully with bated breath. She groaned, as if trying to wake herself, but her body would not have it. When she began to writhe uncomfortably again, Loki approached her.

"Rest now," he whispered, crouching down down by her side, tentatively reaching over to touch her face. Her eyes made as if they wanted to open, but she sighed instead and eventually relaxed under his touch. He traced his thumb lightly over her skin, forgetting himself momentarily, touching her lips before abruptly pulling away as if he were destroying something pure just by touching it.

Suddenly, Sif reached over and caught his arm. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the ceiling in a breathless panic, looking fixedly above her as if she had just been roused from a nightmare.

Her terrified eyes moved slowly from the top of the canopy over to where he sat beside her. He couldn't understand the look she gave him, but it was one he had not yet seen from her before; a look of intense relief, anger, and happiness. Her eyes began to fill with tears and she began to breathe rapidly.

" _Loki_ ," she whispered, searching his eyes as she cried, her hold on him tightening.

He didn't know how or why she assumed it to be him, but he was so transfixed by his name leaving her mouth that he didn't care. Not until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror directly across the room. He froze.

At some point, Loki had transformed back into his natural state.


	4. Lavender and Springtime.

His eyes flashed back to hers. He immediately stood and backed away.

"It _is_ you," she rasped, smiling up at him with tear-filled eyes. "How is it possible?"

He swallowed hard, raising his brows arrogantly at her, but he did not turn himself back into the guard. "You are not well. You don't know what-"

"You and your tricks. And your lies. _Always_ ," she interrupted crossly, shaking her head. Pushing herself up weakly from her resting state, she paused only when the pain became too much. He started towards her to help, but her eyes pinned him firmly. "I know you are real now, just as I did in the washroom. Why must you insist this is an illusion?"

Loki looked at her severely for a long time before sighing and crouching back down beside her, his head in his hands. "If I told you, you'd only believe what you want to believe."

Sif reached over to him cautiously, unaware of how he would react. But she did not care. Too long she had denied herself this man, too long had she denied her feelings for him. When he was gone, her only regret was that she never told him, that she never _touched_ him, not in the way that she so badly needed to. She took a lock of his hair between her fingertips and felt her body warm with relief. She relaxed instantaneously, as if touching him was the most wonderful, most natural thing in the nine realms.

"I do not care. I am only glad you are alive."

Loki flinched slightly, too stunned by her words and her touch to properly react. She traced her fingers lightly over the hand that was tangled back in his locks and ran her fingers against his wrist. He watched curiously as she smiled to herself while caressing his skin, wondering absentmindedly if he was still dreaming. How long had he wanted this -  and not by his own accord, but of hers. He closed his eyes, almost painfully, as if the touch of someone so good was burning a hole right through him.

Unable to endure something so foreign any longer, he set her hand back on the bed and darkly glanced up, his face full of hatred once more. He responded to her gentle countenance the only way he knew how - angrily and with skepticism. "What about your lies? What you said to me back in Odin's chambers I-"

"I _knew_ that had to be you!" Sif's eyes widened and her face hardened at his abrupt change in demeanor. "Where is the Allfather? I thought I was going mad!"

"CLEARLY YOU ARE MAD!" he barked in feigned disgust. He stood and paced around the bed, arms pinned behind his back. He was mustering all the anger he had within him in an unsurprising attempt to mask his true emotions. "Lady Sif, the  _great_ warrior shield-maiden _._ Look at the state of you now." 

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" she screamed as she forced herself to sit up, matching his rage with ease. The blood drained from her cheeks. It was clear to Loki that she was recalling the memory of his feigned demise, and the look on her face made his stomach turn with self-loathing. It was at that very moment he knew, for the first time ever, that she did care for him. 

"Sif, I -," he started toward her, but she raised a hand to stop him. 

" _Don't_ ," she snapped, pointing for him to sit back down in the chair and listen to her. Her eyes were heavy fatigue and sadness, but she was livid. "I do not give a _damn_ how angry you are with me, or what you've done, or how it is you're even standing here before me, but _do not_ believe my sentiments insincere."

"Sif -"

"LET ME SPEAK," she barked, her tone forcing him to silence. "I realize I am unstable. I realize I do not know much of _anything_ anymore," she continued, using her unscathed arm to lift the covers away from her body, swinging her legs slowly over the edge of the mattress. Before he could stop her, she was up and standing before him, steadying herself against the edge of the bed. She crouched down on her knees in front of where he sat, forcing him to look down at her, her eyes watering once more. "I only know that I have _begged_ the Gods to bring you back to me. And here you are."

The sight in front of him now was comparable to the summer sun of Asgard, for he could not look at her directly. She was blinding in her all of her beauty and close enough to burn him. Her dark, heavy locks fell chaotically across her chest, covering her breasts where they otherwise would have been bared to him through her transparent lace robe. It wasn't that he didn't believe her now, it was the fact that he didn't deserve her. She was always _his_ weakness. Now she was broken, and he was the cause. The irony was scathing.

Sif slowly stood before him. Her head cocked to one side as she looked down, studying him closely, seriously, brushing a strand of his hair away from his eyes. She pushed her fingers delicately through his mane and pulled him in closer to her until she could feel his breath against her abdomen.

Loki allowed his hands to travel slowly up her thighs to her hips. He pressed his forehead gently against her stomach, the familiar, nostalgic smell of lavender and springtime invigorating his senses. He clung firmly onto her, losing himself entirely within the surreal moment.  _Curse the fabric between my lips and her skin_ , he thought as he breathed heavily, conflicting instincts beginning to overwhelm him. He wanted to rip the garment from her body, to turn her against the bed and take her as she was now, but he wanted to savor every little thing about her much, much more. She was not a bar maiden or courtesan. She was a woman rarer than the convergence who had always been at the core of his universe. What stood in front of him now was no longer the tempestuous maiden he fought alongside and against, but the woman whom he had ached for his entire life.

She pulled him up to stand and began removing his layers, leather upon more leather, until he was bare chested before her. She gazed at him in awe, his perfectly toned, pale muscles rippling in the dying sunlight, his raven hair a disheveled mess. He was beautiful.

They stared into each others eyes for what felt like an eternity before Loki finally stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks gently with his thumbs.

_"Loki..."_

"Yes?" he whispered, barely audible, his face inches from hers. 

"Kiss me."

At the sound of her request, one that he was certain he would never hear in this lifetime from Sif, Loki placed a delicate finger under her chin and brought his lips softly against hers. 

They both stood still as statues as their mouths met, afraid to move in fear of putting an end to the perfect moment. But with the feel of his perfect lips on hers, Sif's hunger for him quickly grew. There would be no holding back. Not now. Not when she had waited forever for this moment, for this day.

She leaned into him further, wrapping her arms around his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling her into him. Loki's fervor matched hers with ease. He battled with her as they kissed, grabbing fistfuls of her locks and pulling them down in order to claim her mouth better. Sif moaned against him and the sweet sound was Loki's undoing. Carefully laying her down on the bed behind them, his mouth not leaving hers for a moment, he took her unscathed arm and placed her hand over his heart so she could feel, if she couldn't already see, exactly what she was doing to him.

There was only her. There was only _ever_ her.

 


	5. Confessions.

Without warning, a faint knock came suddenly upon the door. It immediately creaked open and the two glanced over to find Baldur, one of Asgard's finest, most renowned warriors, standing wide-eyed and livid in the far corner of the room.

"You _filthy whore_ ," he spat angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. The look on his face was murderous, almost insane. Immediately, he started after them.

Loki had shape-shifted back into the guard so quickly that in the dim light of the room, Baldur did not see that it was him. His eyes were too fixated on Sif now, the rage on his face clearly intended for her. Before Loki had time to react, Baldur crossed the room and grabbed Sif by her wounded arm, throwing her hard onto the ground.

Under normal circumstances, Sif would have certainly held her own against him, for Loki had seen it many times before. But she was in such a feeble state that, at the moment, it was not possible for her to defend herself. 

There had been times in the past where Loki had been plenty angry with Baldur, but nothing came close to the rage that burned within his veins upon seeing him handle Sif so violently. Baldur had bested Loki before, but his brute force was no current match to Loki's adrenaline-fueled strength. He wasted no time catching him by the throat and pinning him hard against the wall.

"And who are you,  _friend_?" Baldur spat between gasps of air. Loki's grip tightened.

" _One_ ," he replied calmly, eerily, holding up the pointer finger of his free hand pensively to his mouth. An insane laugh suddenly emerged from his lips and his eyes burned brightly. "If you ever refer to the Lady Sif as a 'whore' again, I will cut off your man parts and feed them to you." 

Baldur struggled uncomfortably, his eyes carefully regarding Loki's. 

" _Two_ ," Loki whispered, his eyes darkening. "If you  _ever_ lay a hand on her again, your lack of man parts will be the least of your worries."

"Is that so?" Baldur manage to choke out.

"DO- NOT- TOUCH- HER-," Loki roared through clenched teeth, slamming Baldur's head against the stone wall with each word, his nostrils flaring.

"Stop-," Sif begged, pulling herself up weakly from the floor. "You'll kill him."

"Won't I?" he said with a twisted smile, perfectly pleased with himself. He didn't take his eyes away from the man he'd hated for most of his life, the man who'd taken Sif away from those who loved her, the man who had corrupted her good sense at times. He was notorious around Asgard for fucking anything that walked by him, yet clearly felt he had some claim to Sif. The thought made Loki's blood boil.

Sif slowly made her way over to where the two men stood. She was disturbed by how quickly Loki could go from the man she was just with to the man standing before her now, though she was not shocked by it. She knew him well, knew who he was, and knew all about the things he had done. To her, none of it mattered. She didn't care if Loki choked the life out of Baldur, truly. There were times she felt like doing it herself. But she wouldn't have any more red on his ledger.

"Stop," she whispered, gently putting her hand on Loki's grasp. "Come back to me."

The touch of her hand instantly loosened his grip and Baldur fell exasperatedly to the floor with a loud thud. The ruffian clawed at his neck, gasping for air. Loki immediately grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the door and into the hall.

"Remember my words,  _friend,_ " Loki whispered heatedly, slamming him once more against the wall, his finger inches away from Baldur's face. "Make yourself scarce."

Baldur lay on the cold cobblestone floor of the cloister somewhere between a dream and consciousness. For a moment, before blacking out, he could have sworn the ghost of Loki Laufeyson had just appeared before him.

 

* * *

 

"Are you unharmed?" Loki asked quietly as he stepped into Sif's room, changing fully back into himself.

"I'm fine."

After pausing for a moment he gestured towards the door, breathless, his brows furrowed.

"You might want to change the locks."

Sif's solemn demeanor broke and she chuckled, relieved to find him in a bit of a softer state, at least towards her. One of the things she'd always admired most about him was his ability to make her smile under the worst circumstances. He was the only one that ever could. He didn't even mean to be funny, as she knew he was angry, but that only made his sentiments all the more amusing to her.

Loki stood for a minute and looked down at his hands. His mischievous sneer diminished at her laugh and all that was left was a heavy sadness in his eyes. She hadn't noticed how exhausted he looked until now, as if the events of the past day were starting to wear on his already fragile psyche.

"Do you - desire him?" Loki spoke, his remark more of a statement than a question. Either way, he was fairly certain it was an inquiry he did not want an answer to.

" _No_ ," she answered quickly, shaking her head. She walked over to him and reached up to stroke the frown from his vexed face. 

"You two must have gotten rather close," he stated coldly, gently removing her hand and placing it back at her side. "If he's entering your bedchambers so freely, I'd reckon he was more than just a casual fuck."

Her gaze fell in embarrassment. She was hurt by his rejection of her touch but hurt much more by his words. Crossing the room to her window seat, she sat, staring out the diamond leaded panes, trying to hide her grief. She pulled her knees into her chest and closed her eyes, wincing as she held on to her wounds. 

"After your death, I was unwell," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "The only thing that kept me alive was the hope that you might return, as you did after the Bifrost was split-"

Loki scoffed. "As a monster."

Sif continued, ignoring his bitter remark. "As rumors spread this time that your body was recovered, I was lost. I've spent every night drowning myself in a barrel of meade with Baldur until I find myself intoxicated. I've used him, yes. Many times. I am not proud of it. But drinking was the only time I ever saw you anymore," she swallowed hard, her eyes pained. "I'd see you watching me in dark corners of the tavern or in the cloisters late at night. There were times I was certain you sat by my side, making certain I didn't drink myself to death. I-" Sif stopped suddenly, a sick wave of realization rushing over her. "It  _was_  you, wasn't it?"

Loki slowly walked over to her. He sat down on the opposite end of the window seat, spreading a fur throw out over her, covering any inch of exposed body. "Yes. It was me."

Sif's expression went from desolate to seething in a mere matter of seconds. She threw off the blanket and flew across the seat, shoving him hard against the wall. "WHY DID YOU NOT REVEAL YOURSELF? YOU  _KNEW_ HOW I SUFFERED!"

"Sif-"

"MY HEART WAS BROKEN!" she shouted through tears, pounding his chest relentlessly, shaking hard as she cried.

She was speaking a language that was all too easy for Loki to understand - one of pure, unbridled anger. And in that moment, he realized the depth of the consequences for his actions. She was the first person to appear hurt at all by his absence, by his feigned death, and she was the last person he wanted it to affect. But it had, and she was nearly ruined by it. 

Loki caught her gently by her wrists, avoiding her wounds entirely, and pulled her into his arms. She fought only momentarily before melting into his embrace, crying harder as she did so, her tears cascading down his bare skin. He couldn't stand being the cause of her unhappiness. 

"You _must_ believe me," he spoke softly, smoothing her hair down as he rocked her back and forth. "I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did. So much so."

"I am a fool," he breathed against the skin of her neck, closing his eyes as they too began to water. 

"Yes," she agreed with ease. "You are."

"I thought it was Thor's leaving for Midgard."

"You always thought it was Thor," she said, shaking her head incredulously. "But it was _you_ , Loki. It was always you."

"How could I believe for a moment that someone like you – that someone I loved _so_ deeply - could ever feel the same?"

Sif stiffened slightly at his words before turning to look up at him. "Someone you… loved?"

Loki gazed down at her, his expression changing into one that she had rarely seen from him before. It was soft, warm and almost peaceful. He brushed away a stray lock of hair from her eyes, his fingers traveling south to touch her lips. "Someone I love," he whispered, shaking his head intently. " _Very_  much."

"Someone you love," she repeated, looking up into his eyes. 

"Yes."

Never, in all her time of knowing him, had he ever muttered the words - to anyone. Sif knew he was fully capable of love, and if she was being honest with herself, she always knew. But she never imagined he would be saying it to her, here and now, as he was. As she was. He was alive, back from the dead once more. And he loved her. And she loved him.

She sat up slowly to get a better look at him, holding the blanket tightly up around her. The realm was quiet and the moons of Asgard began to shine brightly through the beveled glass, casting a partial shadow upon their faces. She could spend a million lifetimes staring at him as he was in front of her now - vulnerable, warm, loving - and it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Loki?" 

"Yes?" he breathed calmly, watching her carefully. 

She leaned into him once more. She whispered, her breath warm, her lips pressed against his ear.

"I need you."


	6. Safe Now.

Loki closed his eyes at her request and turned in towards her lips, taking in the intoxicating smell of her dark tresses that were draped around him. Before he could reach up to touch them, she stood and turned to the side, releasing the blanket around her, letting it drop silently to the floor. This time the robe went with it.

He sat gawking on the window seat, immobilized by the breathtaking sight before him. Never in the whole of his life had he seen anything as beautiful as her, her porcelain skin shimmering in the moonlight, profoundly contrasted against the dark, wavy locks that fell seamlessly over her breasts.

Sif removed the bandages from her arm, revealing wounds that were mostly gone now. The healer's magic has worked well. She noticed Loki staring, but he did not advance towards her and for a brief moment, insecurity began to wash over her.

He immediately sensed her feelings of apprehension and stood, removing layers of his heavy garb until he was stripped down to nothing but his underclothing. 

Sif turned and watched him curiously, coyly biting her thumb. She had wanted to bed with him for years, spending many nights pleasing herself to the thought. She always wondered what he looked like underneath his armor, and the man before her did not disappoint. The moonlight revealed a pale, well-defined torso and strong, smooth, muscular arms. Her eyes traveled south to the large protuberance outlined by his undergarments. He was a sight to behold.

Loki had been with many women before, but with Sif it was as if he didn't know quite what to do. Never had he been with someone he loved. Never had someone cared for him in return. He wanted to touch her, to be inside of her, to feel every inch of her that which he only dreamed of ever doing but was almost afraid that the minute he touched her, she would somehow disappear.

Sif didn't know why Loki wouldn't advance upon her now. She was a strong woman, stronger than many. Any man that denied her would be a fool not worth her time, and she knew this. But Loki was different. She didn't want him, she _needed_ him- desperately. Maybe, she considered for a moment, he was expecting more from her. Maybe the stories told by the various whores claiming to bed with him were true - maybe she simply had to speak his language.

Slowly, carefully, she knelt before him, her head down submissively.

Loki's brow furrowed, but it did not take long to realize what she was doing, and his heart sank. Immediately disregarding his own misgivings, he crouched down in front of her, gently taking her chin in his head, forcing her to look up at him.

"You do not kneel to me," he whispered, his eyes searching hers for amnesty.

He pulled her up slowly and ran his fingers delicately through her hair, pushing her locks in front behind to her back, exposing her breasts to him. He lifted her injured arm against his face, kissing the wounds as he did, his eyes not leaving hers. With his free hand, he pulled her gently into him, tracing his fingers down her spine, hovering at the small of her back.

Staring up into his gaze, into those eyes that she felt could see into the depths of her soul, she slid her hand up along his jaw and around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers. His lips soft and gentle. It was like she had been parched for a lifetime and he was the river she had been searching for, thirsting for.

The feel of her lips upon his. Her warm breasts against his chest. The smell of lavender mixed with her sweet breath intoxicating each and every one of his senses. If there was a time in his life more beautiful than this, he was hard-pressed to remember it.

Her hands clenched fistfuls of his hair as she pushed her mouth deeper against his. He grabbed her hair harder in return, gently yanking her head back and fervently planting a trail of soft kisses and bites along her neck to her ear. When his lips found hers once more, her mouth parted and his tongue swiftly claimed hers, his fever for her mounting. Cupping her breasts eagerly in his hands, his thumbs rotated against her nipples while his hardness grew against her thigh.

"You are... _beautiful_ …," he whispered, still trying to comprehend what in the nine realms she was doing here with him. With her arms still around his neck he grabbed her legs and pulled her up, supporting her so that she was fully wrapped around him. He carried her back to the bed and laid her delicately upon it, finally removing the last piece of clothing from his body.

Sif inhaled sharply at the size of him in the moonlight, completely awestruck by the whole of his physique. He was breathtaking and ready for her. She positioned herself up on her elbows to get a better look and slightly parted her legs for him, smirking wantonly. Loki swallowed hard at the sight before him as he carefully positioned himself on top of her. This goddess who he had pined for his entire life, wanted him. It was blasphemy.

She saw the fear and apprehension mixed with need in his eyes. Her hand found his and she squeezed, reassuring him, showing him that she wanted him. He lowered his head slowly to her chest and planted his lips between her breasts, his hair dragging lightly against her nipples. A warm shudder rushed through her and her hands clamped down on his back as she pulled him as close to her as possible.

"Take me now," she whispered breathlessly, her lips dragging against his ear. "Loki…"

At the sound of her heady request, his hand grasped her hair and he thrust himself smoothly, deeply, into her moist warmth. She let out a blissful moan of relief and elation as he filled her, completing her, completing the part of her that had been missing forever. He groaned deeply, closing his eyes, throwing back his head in breathtaking bliss. The way she felt around him, the way he felt in her. There was nothing more perfect, nothing more right, and in that moment the two of them realized the extent of what they had been missing these many years. If the planets weren't aligned before this, they certainly were now, for nothing in all of the nine realms had ever been more intended, more fated than the convergence of these two.

She moved, rolling over him, taking her place on top of him. Steadying herself with one hand on his chest, the other deep within his hair, she pushed his head back onto the mattress, riding him fervently as he touched her. His hands clawed at her thighs, pulling her into him, faster and faster, more heatedly and more passionately with each passing moment. It was as if the carnal flood gates he had been trying so hard to keep closed had burst open, inadvertently and unapologetically.

He threw her off of him, flipping her over and pulled her legs greedily up to meet him. Grabbing her hair he pulled it back towards him, his free hand finding her nub as he took her hard from behind. She was in complete wonder at being taken by him in such a raw form and it wasn't long before her climax grew. As he felt her walls tightening around him and heard her breath quickening, he flipped her over once more and found her lips. Thrusting deeply yet more sensually now, he felt his own pleasure approaching.

"Come for me. Come now…," he whispered in the dark, holding her against him as she arched her back up off the bed.

His command was her unraveling, and her unraveling was his. She closed her eyes, calling his name out into the night as he came into her, crying out in sheer unrestrained ecstasy. They collapsed breathlessly into each other's arms, panting and sweating profusely, tears falling freely from their eyes. The release he felt from giving her pleasure and from her giving herself to him was a new emotion, one both irrefutably beautiful and completely overwhelming.

He lay silently against her chest as he reached for her hand, listening to the sound of her heartbeat until it lulled him to the edge of sleep's hold. He had never been so happy in his entire life. The heavy, emotional events of the day were finally catching up to both of them.

"I love you...," she whispered quietly to him, feeling completely at ease.

Hearing her words somewhere in between sleep and awake, Loki squeezed her hand.

Sif looked down at the man in her arms, blissfully happy for the first time in her existence. She stroked his hair tenderly and rubbed his back, vowing that whatever it was he had done or whatever trouble he was in, she would let no further pain come to him. 

She held him tighter against her.

"You're safe now."


	7. Prophecies.

That night in his dreams, Loki relived a harrowing memory of when he was young- no more than ten years of age. He was laughing, racing Thor in the meadow to the edge of the forest. Failing to heed their mother's incessant warning of staying clear of the woods, the two boys approached the forest regardless, completely out of breath.

"Beat you,  _brother._ I'm getting a bit bored of winning all of the time!" Loki bragged between gasps of air, his hands on his knees.

"You  _shape-shifted_  again, you cheat!" Thor shoved him, knocking him over onto the ground.

Loki laughed and laid on the grass, hands behind his head, smiling smugly up at his brother. "It's not my fault I'm infinitely more clever than you are."

Before Thor had a chance to retort, they heard branches snapping behind them. They turned simultaneously to find a black cloaked figure suddenly emerging from the woods, its face hidden well in the dense shadow of its hood.

 _"Freyja…"_ Loki exhaled, awestruck by the creature that now stood before him. Thor ran quickly away, yelling for his brother to follow, but Loki remained steadfast, though fully alarmed.

"Why do you not run, _so_ _n of Odin?"_ the figure asked slowly, eerily, peering down at him with nothing but two piercing blue eyes through darkness.

Freyja was an ancient asgardian seeress who every so often would appear before those she felt were somehow in need of her abysmal prophecies. She was not a benevolent goddess by any means, and not beautiful despite many midgardian legends claiming otherwise. She was a monster- a wicked daughter of magic, unlike Frigga- whose prophecies continuously brought chaos and conflict to the nine realms.

"It is not  _you_  men fear, only your words," he replied bravely, but cautiously.

"I see, young prince of Asgard," she spoke, crouching down to meet him at his eye level. She removed her hood before him, revealing a hideously skeletal face, sunken eyes and rotting cheekbones. The few strands of blonde hair stretched across her balding head like pieces of decomposed straw and the stench of her was nauseating. It appeared to Loki as though she had died and been dragged out deep from the depths of Hel. "And do you not  _fear_  words?"

Loki swallowed hard, trying to bravely look her in the eyes but he was suddenly paralyzed by her ghastly figure.

Freyja cocked her head and smiled at him, her teeth crooked and yellow, her mouth gaunt. "You and I are not so different, Loki  _Odinson_. _"_

"You mean- by our gifts of sorcery-," he gulped, shifting uncomfortably.

"]It is not my right to tell you who you truly are. You will know in time. You are very much the spawn of misfortune and ill luck. Things you love will die. Anything that loves you will prematurely meet its end. In time, you will know what a monstrosity you are -," her voice became less and less calm and more threatening as she stood, hovering over him, coming closer with each word. Loki's eyes widened tearfully as she encroached upon him, spewing these mere "words" that stung like a thousand knives.

At that moment, Frigga appeared out of thin air and grabbed her son by the hand, fleeing swiftly with him away from woods.

"SOMEDAY YOU WILL FIND ME AGAIN,  _PRINCE OF ASGARD_ ," the malevolent seeress yelled ominously, lingering at the edge of the forest. Sshe could not cross the borders beyond it. "SOMEDAY YOU WILL WANT TO KNOW-"

"SILENCE WITCH!" Frigga turned and yelled, her eyes burning, flames suddenly lighting the path between where the two opponents stood. Loki had never seen his mother look so angry before, which only added well to his fear. At the sight of the flames coming towards her, the völva disappeared quickly into the woods, her dark figure quickly dissipating into deranged wails of laughter.

His mother turned to him and crouched down, holding him close to her. "My darling boy, I've told you plenty of times to stay far from the forest…"

"How did you find me?"

"I  _always_ know where you are, my little wizard," she smiled, touching him briefly on the tip of his nose. "But this time, it was Thor. He got to me faster than my own mind, if you can believe it."

"Mother," Loki looked at her thoughtfully. "What am I? Why does the seeress say such horrible things about me?"

Frigga looked carefully at him, holding back tears as she did so. Her hand pushed back a stray lock of his raven hair and she leaned forward to kiss him gently on the forehead. "Loki Odinson, you are a beautiful boy,  _my_  beautiful boy. Frejya has a strong dislike for our family. Anything she can say to try and hurt us, she will. You are too young to have to have been exposed to such a wretch. For that, I am sorry. But you mustn't speak of this again, for no good shall come of it. Do you understand?"

Loki nodded, his mother's words comforting him. A boy of ten was not to be bothered by such dreadful matters. There were more important things on the agenda, like beating his brother in archery or seeing how long he could sit up in a tree and peg Sif with fruit before she took notice and threatened to beat him up.

Returning  to the North Garden's, he found Thor and Sif playing by one of his favorite trees – an ancient willow he liked to run to and hide under whenever Odin was angry with him. Loki hid from them at first, picking up pebbles along the way to taunt them with. When he looked up, they were both gone, but he still heard the sound of their laughter beneath the curtain of the heavy branches.

When he ran underneath the tree to find them, Thor was nowhere to be found. Instead, Sif lay motionless on the ground; above her stood the familiar dark, hooded figure.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Loki screamed, rushing to her side. "SIF! LADY SIF! WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" he cried, shaking her vigorously. "MOTHER! THOR! HELP, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!"

"It is not what I have done to her, Loki  _Laufeyson_. It is what  _you_  have done to her," the figure replied chillingly.

"NO! SIF! PLEASE! PLEASE WAKE UP! SIF! SIF!"

Something was physically shaking Loki now. From somewhere, he heard a familiar voice.

"LOKI! I'M HERE! LOKI! LOKI WAKE UP!"

Loki's eyes flew open and he shot straight up. Sweat poured down from his face onto his chest, his heart racing, eyes wide. It took him a moment to realize he was back in Sif's bed, and she was safely next to him. Once he did he sighed heavily, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face in his hands.

"What- happened?" She asked, cautiously touching his back.

He flinched then calmed at her soft, tranquil touch. Running his hands from his tear and sweat soaked face through his slicked back hair, he laid back down beside her, pulling her up close against his chest.

"Bad dream, I suppose." He replied, brow furrowed, smoothing her hair down and tracing his thumb along her jawline. He didn't want to get into what he had just relived from his childhood, though the message to him was quite clear. Even though the latter part of it never occurred, the prophecies were rather accurate. Dreams did not come often to Asgardians, and when they did, they almost always meant something. Intense sadness and dread washed over him, and Sif immediately knew there was something he was not telling her. In fact, she knew there were several things.

"By the way," she said, changing the subject from one seemingly dark matter to another. "Where  _is_ the Allfather?"

Loki sighed and began the vexing task of explaining in detail the things they had not yet discussed, but which were looming inevitably. Not even the magic of the previous night could spare them from the sunlight blinding them through the windows, reminding them all too soon of the harshness of their realities.

"I should have come to you earlier," she said desolately. "I should have made my affections known. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe then you wouldn't have-"

"Killed all of those people on Midgard?" He sadly interjected. "No, my darling. I'm not sure it would have saved me, even then. The Tesseract, once in my hands, possessed a power unlike any other. I never once had it – it only had me. What happened on Midgard I have very little memory of doing. I know what I've done. I am reminded every day, every minute. I know I do not deserve to live, and there is no excuse good enough for my behavior. I've wanted to end it every moment since. But what happened down there was not me, in my heart of hearts I know this, and trying to explain it to anyone who has never had an infinity stone within their grasp is fruitless."

Sif swallowed, her eyes closing at the sound of his words. Clearly it was something she thought about, and often, since the boy she grew up with and the man who had done all of those terrible things were two completely separate people. A trickster, an imposter, that he was. But Loki was never a murderer.

"What of the Destroyer you sent to New Mexico to attack us – to attack me? Did you not care then- about any of us?"

"When I found out what I truly was, who I was, I didn't care anymore. A part of me snapped. You loved Thor, or so I thought, and I wanted him dead. I did, that I won't deny. I felt like he knew all along and lied to me just as Odin and Frigga did, and that was a grave blunder on my part. All I knew was lost. All except the power of the throne – the one chance I had left to be anything, where people would see that I could be a good king, that I could do right by them. I couldn't do that with Thor in my way. He never would have let me as he bends too easily to Odin's will. But I never would have hurt you. I know that, and deep down, I think you've always known that too. I ached for you even when I thought he was all you ached for. In a way, we both had something we couldn't have and that was an even enough keel for me. At least, at the time it was. When I returned to Asgard for the second time to be imprisoned I had many hours to think to myself – to be myself once more – and reflect upon all that I had done and all that I had become. When Thor approached me I seized an opportunity that would help me get exactly what I was looking for, all I was looking for - revenge for my mother's murder and redemption in his eyes and possibly even yours. I had one last chance to prove myself good, but I was not going to come back and while away in a cell for the rest of my days. I'd rather be dead than have too much time to sit and think on you pining away for that lumbering oaf."

Sif smiled against his chest, hearing the familiar jealousy and annoyance in his voice. There he was, the Loki she always knew and loved. "You. Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself."

Loki paused at her words and abruptly stopped running his fingers through her hair.

"What is it?" Sif asked, looking up at him.

"Those were Frigga's last words to me…" Loki sighed, recalling what seemed to be yet another unpleasant memory in the abundance of them that he had.

"She was a smart woman. The smartest woman I ever knew."

Loki smiled. "She loved you fiercely. You know that," he sat up, "Do you remember when we were children and I cut off your hair?"

Sif rolled her eyes and sat up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her fingers entwined with his. "Do I ever."

"Terribly sorry about that, my love. But mother was _furious_  with me! You should have seen her! She threatened to send me to live with the dwarves in Nidavellir!  _She_  was the one that brought your hair back from them, not I, and I'm afraid we still owe them a debt for it." He chuckled, recalling the memory. Something seemingly harmless, but something he knew deeply affected her. He tried to jest though his heart was truly sorry for the pain he had caused her so long ago. "But if I do say so, that color is very becoming on you…," he said smiling, trying to lighten the heavy moment, but with a hint of sadness still in his eyes.

"You best say so, it is  _your_  doing that I am forever raven-haired, just like the son of mischief! It has grown on me though. I like to think that a blonde shield maiden would not have been taken as seriously."

"I've never taken you seriously either way," he said, cocking an eyebrow at her and holding back laughter as she swung at him. He pulled her down, tickling her underarms and pinning her beneath him.

"You fool!" She screamed with laughter, making to kick him in the nether regions if he did not cease. His hands flew up in the air in surrender and he smiled playfully at her. Laying back down on his side facing her, head resting on his hand, his smile suddenly faded.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" He ran his fingers lightly over her wounds that were quickly fading into scars.

Sif swallowed, suddenly looking ashamed. "I, much like you, had nothing left. My best friend had left for Midgard, Frigga was dead. And you- you were never coming back. It was desperation, some would say it was incredulous that I would fall so far beneath my honor, but the void I felt with you truly gone was something I knew I could search the nine realms for eternity for and never fill. There was no life anymore. My heart was gone." Tears fell freely from her face down onto the sheets, her eyes looking away from his.

"My darling, I always find a way back. You've underestimated me," He smiled lovingly up at her, resting his palm on her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. Her hand slid up to hold his against hers. Leaning down in down into him, their lips met.

Breaking away after minutes passed, Loki suddenly remembered what had been bothering him since he woke. "I must go. I have duties to attend to."

"You're the King. Can't you stay in bed all day?" she whimpered at him, smiling teasingly.

"My guards will surely be beginning to suspect something by now, a king cannot lay in bed  _all_  day - although Odin seems to make quite the habit of doing so," he said bitterly. "Fortunately, this king is rather gifted at being in two places at once – but only for a short while. I will be back by nightfall, my love. Do you need me to send for the healer?"

"I seem to be healing fine."

"I'll send for him anyway," Loki said, disregarding her statement and moving around the bed to her side, kissing her hand. "Nothing is too good for you."

"Where are you going now?"

"I have several council meetings to attend and then, well, I suppose I should bathe at some point…," he smiled humorously.

"Well… save that part for tonight then," she winked at him, laughing as he laughed.

"Until then, my love," he stood, pausing momentarily to gaze at her beauty and the warmth emanating from her eyes, wondering what in Hel he ever did to deserve her.

Transforming back into the guard, Loki stepped outside into the hall and leaned hard against her door. He found the nearest handmaiden and asked her to fetch the healer. Once she had disappeared, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before walking straight across the cloister into the gardens.

From there, Loki headed off in the direction of the Langthwaite Meadow.


	8. Magnus.

Sif heard a knock on her door the moment she stepped out from the washroom, fully dressed in her usual attire. Quickly securing her hair up in a simple ponytail and smoothing her tunic, she started toward the door, hoping momentarily that Loki had forgotten something.

She opened the barricade, unsurprisingly, to find the same healer that had cared for her in her less than glorious hours the previous day. He was a very short man, quite old, who had an undeniable warmth and mystery about him. He always wore a faint smile upon his face as if he were harboring the most pleasant of secrets. He vaguely reminded Sif of someone she once knew, but she couldn't quite place him.

"Please, come in," she spoke kindly, gesturing for him to enter.

"Thank you, child," he replied hoarsely, waddling through the door and over to her bureau where he placed his weighty knapsack down upon it. Fumbling through his bag, he pulled out a pair of wire rimmed spectacles and gestured for Sif to sit in the chair next to him.

"I trust you are feeling better?"

"Ah yes - forgive me- what is your name healer?"

"The name's Magnus, my girl," He placed the spectacles on the brim of his oversized nose, and winced up at her. "I would tell you my surname as well, but I seem to have forgotten it in the last thousand years or so."

Sif chuckled. "It's nice to meet you - Magnus."  _Magnus._ The name sound so familiar to her, even now. Her face darkened. "I'm sorry we met under such humiliating circumstances yesterday."

Magnus quickly waved a hand dismissively. "No matter, my girl. Let's take a look at that arm now, shall we?" He carefully placed his hand on hers and turned her wrist so he could take a proper look at her forearm. Not a scratch to be seen. The old man nodded and gently patted the spot where her scars once were. "It seems you are as good as new."

Sif smiled as he removed his glasses and tucked them back into his knapsack. "Tell me, Lady Sif," Magnus paused cautiously before continuing, the first time he had been anything less than buoyant and lighthearted. His voice lowered. "How does your heart fare?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My dear girl," he whispered, pulling another chair feebly in front of her to sit in. "I know what you did yesterday. I know why you did it. I even know who you did it for."

"H-how?"

"Well, you're not the first to try and do something like this in these parts. No, no, I've seen this more than once in my years. Many have pined away for lovers that have left or since passed on, unable to cope. You may not remember me either, but I knew both of your parents, and well. My wife was Alva, your mother's handmaiden for the better part of her years. I, with the help of my wife, helped bring you into this world. Do not be alarmed, but I have watched you from a safe distance for most of your life. I promised your parents on their deathbeds and Alva on hers, that I would keep you from harm, that I would be your sworn healer."

Sif's hands closed over her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. She suddenly knew who he was, and she was not alarmed. She had loved Alva as a child, loved playing with her. She was closer to her than she was with her own mother. She had not recognized Magnus initially, the years since she was a girl had deeply aged him – most likely from the stress of losing his wife, she thought - but beneath those deep lines and wrinkles was indeed a man she once knew.

Reaching out to him, she took his hand in hers, wiping a stray tear from her eye with her free hand as she did. She sat up straight and looked at the floor, smiling. "I know who you are, Magnus. Why did you not make your presence known sooner to me?"

He smiled, patting his eyes dry with a handkerchief he produced out of his breast pocket. "Knowing you, Lady Sif, you would have avoided me like the plague. It's hard enough keeping fair track of you as it is without you knowing, but you, being the mighty warrior that you are now, wouldn't let me close if you knew I had sworn to protect you. It has been easier these years you knowing not of my existence. Less painful, at least. For the both of us."

"I was so young when she died…," Sif replied, a hint of pain in her eyes. "I suppose I grew up wanting to pretend none of it had happened which is partly why I trained to be a warrior. Asgard is so vast I never thought I'd see you again, didn't know if you were still even here and wouldn't know where to begin looking. But I did think of you. And her. Often."

"It seems you never had to look too far, I was always kicking somewhere around these parts," he smiled at her, but quickly, that smile faded. "My dear, to be quite frank, I've come to you now because I fear for your life. Not just because of your actions yesterday. Your heart is in a dangerous place. I've always known your affections for him, but-"

"Magnus, Thor is not-," Sif interrupted.

He raised a gentle hand to silence her. "The only one unaware of your love for Loki all of these years, I'm afraid, was him – and perhaps, yourself. We all knew. Your parents. Alva. Frigga. Thor. Even Odin. The two of you were bound to one another before you could form words. I know telling you to stay away from him is fruitless, but there is a dark order where that boy is concerned."

"You're right in that it is fruitless. And – and anyway, he is gone, i- it doesn't matter anymore," she raised her brow at him, suddenly realizing her façade wasn't bearing any weight.

"My dear, it is no use. I saw through him when he came to your bedchambers just yesterday, and even if I hadn't, it would have been clear by the light in your eyes I see now that I haven't seen since before his feigned demise," Magnus laughed to himself. "That boy has been trouble since he could walk, and you, always several paces behind him."

Sif looked down and smiled to herself, ignoring the heavy undertones in his statement. Loki was alive. Everything else, they could overcome. Together. She would save him no matter the circumstances, fight beside him against any beast that threaten to tear him from her. Now that the Gods had heard her pleas, now that they had brought the two of them back together, nothing would break them apart; and Sif would die trying to make sure of it.

"Lady Sif –," Magnus paused, looking up at the startled shield maiden. His eyes were suddenly frightened, his expression greatly changed. "It appears you are different in more ways than one since I last saw you yesterday, my girl. It appears to me now… that you are with child."


	9. Revelations.

The blood drained from Sif's face. She was fully aware that Asgardian healers knew the very moment conception occurred and could tell whether someone was twenty days along or twenty minutes, but this was far from the type of news she expected to hear. She looked from his eyes down slowly to her stomach, running her fingers across the fabric of her tunic.  _It's impossible,_ she thought.

"It's not impossible," Magnus said, his head down, seemingly able to read her thoughts. "You are different now than you were the last time I saw you meaning conception occurred in the interim."

Her eyes fixed straight ahead, filling with tears. The dangerous realization that someone other than her was aware of Loki's existence suddenly hit quite hard. "Please," she begged him, grabbing his hands and falling to her knees. "Please, you mustn't tell anyone he is alive. Not now. Not, not now."

"No, no Lady Sif," Magnus ushered her back into her seat, patting her hands in her lap. "That news is not for me to share. I have sworn to keep you safe. I'm not sure letting him near you is keeping you safe exactly, but I know now you would be far worse off without him." He reached in his pocket and slowly pulled out a tiny white stone attached to a thin leather band. "Wear this. Always."

"The Eolh rune?" Sif looked up at him, confused.

"For protection. You will need it, there is no doubt. I cannot say what will become of you, of any of us in the coming times, but I do know we're going to need quite a bit of help. And I know I won't always be around to fix up your wounds," he said, a hint of a smile back on his face.

She slowly sat back up on the chair, wiping her eyes and taking the stone from him. She placed it gradually around her neck and buried it deep beneath her tunic, holding it against her chest. Her left hand never strayed from her stomach.

"Do you know… what it is? I mean.. do you know-"

"I've had visions. Two children. Boys," he said, smiling up at her through those warm, squinty eyes.

Sif gasped, her brows furrowing. She looked down at her stomach disbelievingly. "Twins?"

"Twins."

* * *

Once Loki had made it far enough through the tall brush of the meadow, out of plain sight, he transformed eagerly back into his natural state. He was livid. The lines in his face, the dark shadows under his eyes, the severe strut in his walk – he was back to being the Loki most of Asgard knew; a true force to be reckoned with. Trudging through the thick brush, he cursed repeatedly under his breath at the unkempt state of the grounds until he finally reached the edge of the woods.

"WITCH!" he cried in an outrage, wasting absolutely no time summoning the sorceress. He held his arms out as if looking to embrace someone, a deranged grin on his dark face. "IT IS I, YOUR PRINCE OF ASGARD. COME NOW, WHERE IS MY OLD FRIEND?"

He heard the familiar snapping of branches several yards from where he stood. His body spun in the direction of the noise just in time to see the black hooded figure step out from behind a large oak and lean against it.

"Don't you mean…  _King_ of Asgard?" Freyja sneered, laughing eerily to herself.

"Why have you sought me out,  _demon?_  I know what I am now; I know of my lineage, why do continue to use such things against me? Have I not suffered enough in your eyes that you know pose  _threats_  to those I love?"

"LOVE?" she replied incredulously, her cackle deafening. "Hearing  _those words_ from your mouth –  _No_ , no,  _my king,_ do not mistake me. I pose no threats. I only wish to solve the rest of your –  _puzzle_  for you. My dearest Loki, Son of Laufey and Farbauti, you are much  _more_  than just an  _appalling_ Frost Giant who should never have been granted access into Asgard," she spat, circling him while running a long, black fingernail down the side of his clenched jawbone. "You were cursed, at birth, when you were taken -  _cursed_  by your  _real_  parents. You have a rightful throne – but not here. Not in this realm."

"Jötunheim."

" _Very good,_ my king. You see, until you return to Jötunheim to take your place as king of the Frost Giants, you will never have love. You will never have peace. Those who love you will cease to be. And those you truly love – well, look at what happened to Frigga. Or should I say, look what  _you_ did to Frigga _-"_

 _"_ ENOUGH!" He yelled, grabbing her by the throat, his eyes blazing with fury. If looks could kill, Freyja would have been dead instantly on contact.

Her black lips smirked underneath his grasp and her hands waved in front of him. "It isn't right to shoot the messenger…," she choked.

"I have a hunch you're much more than that,  _Freyja,"_ he sneered, throwing her down on the ground _._ "Tell me now before I suck the life out of you, what way out of this is there?"

Freyja laughed again, clutching her chest and rocking back and forth on the ground. "You stupid boy… THERE IS NO WAY OUT," she barked angrily at his blatant ignorance on the matter, her eyes glowing fiercely at him. "Unless-

"Unless?"

"Unless you die."

Loki laughed at her, his hands expressing themselves freely now. "While I have thought in the past that would solve a  _lot_ of problems, I was hoping for an alternative."

"There is another way. If you… bear a son, they will come for him instead," she spoke, her tone slightly graver and less amused.

Loki thought momentarily to himself. There was virtually no way he could ever impregnate Sif, a man of his colorful  _background_. She was too pure. He thought for a minute he might actually be able to fool the Frost Giants by making an empty promise to them, satisfying the curse and protecting Sif.

Freyja read Loki's thoughts instantly and a wicked smile crept lazily across her face.

"Don't be foolish, Laufeyson. It appears your warrior goddess is already expecting. You really  _don't_ waste time mucking your life up and everyone else's now, do you?"


	10. My Burden to Bear.

Loki's heart sank. For the first time in his life he was at a complete loss for words. He wanted nothing more than to accuse the wretch of lying, but he somehow knew she spoke the truth. By no means was Loki a seer, but he possessed many mystical qualities along with many accurate gut feelings. He knew it the moment his mother had died and he knew now that Sif was indeed with child. Still, as cliché and predictable as they sounded, the words came out.

"That's  _not_ possible," he replied, narrowing his eyes, indignantly raising his chin. Though he was trying hard to appear indifferent it was taking everything in him now to hold back the sickness rising in his throat.

" _My king_ , who exactly are you trying to convince?" she replied. "How could you claim to love someone so dearly yet damn them to such a terrible fate?"

Loki crossed over to where she stood, fear replacing the ever-present anger in his eyes. His tone was quieter now. "And what fate is that?"

"You are a frost giant. She is not. If she doesn't die in childbirth, they will come for her. For your child. For your-," Freyja stopped, her nefarious gaze suddenly alight with amusement. "For your  _children_. I see two now. The Lady Sif will bear you two children. Sons. Looks like you won't have to leave Asgard now. Your score will be settled. After all, a child is worth more than the father."

Loki looked as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. He could take many blows, many disappointments but this was just unfair.

"What of Sif? What could they possibly want with her?"

"To raise them, naturally. Asgardian or not, she is still their mother. But they will kill her, in time."

Loki found reality slipping away from him. How was it possible that someone so pure could bear  _ **his**  _children? How could he have let that happen? How could the Gods let any of this happen? He could suddenly bear no more of Freyja's presence.

With no further regards to the witch he staggered off in a trance-like state towards the meadow, which eventually turned into a run. Faster and faster he ran, his heart racing, his mind spinning. This was not true, it couldn't be, he refused to believe it. Sif had always been smart, and safe - her future bright. The one comfort he always had about not being with her was that she was so much better off without him – he  _knew_  this. Did he think he could change his fate or hers by simply loving her and having her love in return? He had not been with her much longer than a day and already her existence was spoiled because of him. He couldn't bear to be the one to tell her the news, not only that he had impregnated her but that her life was now at stake. Throwing himself down into the brush and onto his knees he looked up at the sky, screaming hard as his did so, the veins in his forehead prominent, the tears pouring freely.

"WHY?" he yelled, painfully, pounding his fists hard into the ground. "THIS WAS NOT HER FATE! THIS WAS  _MY_ BURDEN TO BEAR!"

The dark sky cracked open and rain began to fall quietly across the meadow. Loki slumped over on the ground, letting the drops blanket over him. A bolt of lightning flashed brightly across the sky followed by a low rumble of thunder. He looked up anxiously, half expecting and fully hoping to see the familiar silhouette of Thor lumbering through the tall grass over to where he lay, but no one was there. His raven locks clung to the sides of his sodden face. He was unable to tell where the rain on his cheeks began and where his tears ended. He closed his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest, pleading silently to himself as he rocked back and forth like a child at prayer.

_I know I have wronged you, brother. More times than I care to remember, and in ways I myself cannot comprehend. You owe me nothing, and yet, if you can hear me, I need you now. Sif is not well..._

* * *

The sky had long since cleared, turned to pink and then to dark, and yet, there was still no sign of him. Sif sat on the edge of her window seat looking out impatiently at the grounds below. She looked down at her stomach, fingering the rune that pressed coldly against her chest and ran it across her lips absentmindedly. What would she tell him? How would he react?

Suddenly, a loud crash came against her door, startling her entirely. It sounded like someone or something falling against it rather than any sort of knock. She grabbed the closest dagger off the bedside table and made her way over to the noise. A shield maiden of her stature would not normally have been so disturbed by the commotion, but between her condition and the warnings Magnus gave she was now feeling much more apprehensive.

"Who's there?" she asked against the door. Nothing.

After a minute, Sif cracked the door open and looked outside. No one was there. Suddenly, she heard a groan and looked down to see Loki, fully undisguised, slumped half-consciously against the wall next to the door. He slowly looked up at her, his eyelids heavy.

"Hello  _darling_ ," he slurred loudly, his voice dark and thick with sarcasm.

It was immediately clear to her that he had been drinking, something Loki was not known for. Whenever Thor and the Warriors Three were besotted, Sif would always find Loki bent over a book instead of a goblet of mead. Just one of many things she had always admired about him. She didn't admire, however, that he was currently laying exposed outside of her bedchambers. 

"BY THE NORNS!" she cursed angrily as she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into her room. She slammed the door shut and kicked her dagger across the floor, her face livid. "SOMEONE COULD HAVE SEEN YOU - WHAT IN HEL WERE YOU THINKING?"

"Oh _good,"_ he croaked as he rolled over on the floor, wearing that obnoxious, fake smile that she so hated on him. "She still has bit of that old fight in her. Love hasn't made you all  _soft_ now, has it,  _Lady Sif_?""

 

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

Loki sat up on the ground to get a better look at her, his face serious now. He raised his hand, shakily pointing his finger at her and scowling in his drunken stupor. " _You_  were better than this.  _You_  chose the wrong path."

Sif was so angry she could hardly see straight or properly hear what he was saying. If he had been seen, he would have been taken from her - possibly forever. Before her thoughts could rationally sort themselves out she fell to the ground and struck him hard across the face.

"HOW _COULD_ YOU-"

Loki grabbed her arm and raised a hand intended to hit her back with. Tears welled up in his eyes and he breathed heavily through his nose as he stared furiously at her. They had fought and sparred many times before, but this was much different. This was the Loki she had grown to fear, the Loki that was so frightening, so far removed from the man she loved. For the first time ever, Sif was truly afraid of him.

"Let go," she said quietly, trying hard to remain calm in his grasp. She knew he was intoxicated, and furious with her, for whatever reason. She knew the man doing this now was not the man she loved, but she still could not look at him. "Loki, let go of me."

Suddenly, the realization of what he was about to do washed over him. He dropped her arm immediately, looking as though he had just done the worst possible thing imaginable. He could have seriously hurt her, hurt _them._ He had little to no control over his anger  _without_ the help of a drink but it was no excuse. He loved her more than anything in the nine realms. He quickly reached for her, but she flinched and he did not advance.

"Sif- no, please I-," he begged, his voice shaky and desperate. No matter how drunk he was, he realized exactly what he could have done. It was sobering.

"It's alright," she breathed as she sat back against the wall, holding her abdomen protectively. 

Loki watched her fingers graze her stomach. He wanted to throw himself out the window. It was a living nightmare for someone he loved to be damned because of something he'd done.

"I would  _never_  hurt you," he whispered and he began to weep, hard. Sif had seen him cry several times in the past, but _never_ like this. Something was very wrong for him to have been brought to such a low state. She felt her anger fade at the sight of him curled up in a fetal position, sobbing into his hands. She crawled over and pulled him against her, cradling his head in her lap.

" _Shh,"_ she cooed, running her fingers through his hair. "It's alright, my love. It's alright now." 

Sif sat like this for what seemed like hours as Loki faded in and out of sleep. Eventually she tried to pull him up to get him into the bed, though he realized what she was trying to do and stood so she wouldn't have to exert herself. He stumbled over to the bed and sat, his expression blank. The dark circles under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks. He looked beyond tired.

He slowly removed his shirt and pants and sat down on the bed, feeling sober but still out of it.

Sif started towards the washroom but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard him speak.

_"I'm to be a father..."_


	11. Look After You.

Sif turned to look at him from across the room, but his back was facing her, his head in his hands. She couldn't see the expression he wore, but she knew she didn't have to. Suddenly, his behavior made perfect sense. She had no idea how he knew, Magnus maybe, but she was too tired and too disheartened by his actions to confront him about something she was clearly not meant to hear.

She turned again and made her way to the washroom, sobbing silently to herself as she removed her tunic and stripped down to her undergarments. Focusing on one step at a time, one breath at a time, she methodically made her way over to the bath and turned on the water until it was temperate. She stared at herself momentarily in the full length mirror, crossing her arms over her stomach and closing her eyes as she held on tightly to the rune still hanging around her neck.

Footsteps sounded quietly behind her, but she kept her eyes close, too tired to open them, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. Familiar fingers came softly to remove the pins in her hair, letting her locks fall around her bare shoulders. His hands moved carefully to sweep the hair in one motion behind her back, his fingertips making her shiver as they brushed delicately against her skin.

She opened her eyes as he walked over to the bath to check the rising water. She moved carefully towards him, avoiding his eyes and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes. When she looked up, he was gazing at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue and sadness, his expression apologetic. Loki said nothing yet held out a hand which she took hesitantly. He helped her up the steps to the wash basin and she lowered herself with the help of his grip.

Sinking down into the warmth of the water, Sif leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily. She looked over at him as he sat on the steps, his head and crossed arms draped over the edge of the tub, the water just barely touching the tips of his long black locks as they fell over the side. Her fingers reached for them, and he looked up at her as she gently tugged on his long, soft curls.

"Join me?" she blinked, asking hopefully, though she need not ask him twice.

He leisurely removed his briefs, letting them fall to his feet as he stepped out of them. She gawked at him in the rays of the moonlight. He truly was not of this realm she thought to herself, but in a way, she always knew that. Skin as pale and as beautiful as the Jötun snow, hair as black as Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn. His eyes changed from blue to grey to green (depending on his mood, she was convinced), but no matter the color, they were always his most prominent feature. Those eyes, those beautifully forlorn eyes that searched endlessly for love and acceptance. She didn't hate him for the way he acted. Not even a little. For as much as she didn't understand him sometimes, there were some things she could.

Loki sank down into the deep, warm waters of the basin, submerging his head as he did so. When he came back up he took a deep breath, perfectly slicking his hair back and leaning against the opposite wall from her. She suddenly noticed scars she hadn't before – indentations around his wrists and neck – undoubtedly from his time in the dungeons. The more she looked at him, the more wounds she saw. She suddenly felt sick. No doubt he had committed heinous acts, no doubt he was a troubled soul… but in treating him the way they did, the way everyone did – it was no wonder he had gone so far down the wrong path. She partly blamed herself for that.

He noticed her looking at him, knew she was eyeing his scars and suddenly, he felt ashamed. He knew she was reiterating the events of Midgard in her head – something he knew he would never be free of. He grabbed a washrag and a vial of cleansing oils off the side of the tub and began to scrub vigorously at himself, wishing the scars would come off along with the dirt.

Sif swam across the tub and took the cloth gingerly from him. He had scrubbed so hard his pale skin was turning bright pink in certain areas. He didn't seem to sense pain in the way everyone else did, she thought to herself. Either that or he just didn't care.

"By the Allfather, what were you doing today? Rolling around in the mud?" Her hands touched the side of his face as she straddled him, the wet warmth of her bare body pressing against his hard torso.

He looked up at her sheepishly, placing his hands softly at the base of her hips. "I guess you could say that," he nodded.

Sif gently wiped his face clean with the rag then moved to do the same to his arms and chest. She pulled him up against her and continued to wash his back, holding his neck in her hand as he rested his head on her shoulder. Loki breathed deeply, secretly taking in the scent of her hair as it fell across his face. His rough hands moved gently to the velvety skin of her back and he embraced her, holding her tightly against him. For the first time since his mother died, despite all the horror he had felt today, he felt safe. Protected. Loved.

"What is it, my darling…,"she asked quietly, placing the towel down and returning the fervor of his embrace.

"I will never deserve you," he whispered, smiling faintly against her skin. "I think I must somehow make peace with that."

"You know that isn't the truth," she replied earnestly, breaking their hold on one another. She looked up into his eyes, but he looked away. She knew wherever his mind was now was far from where she currently sat beside him.

Loki said nothing but slowly came to and turned her around until her back faced his chest. He took her soft, thick locks between his fingertips and began to pull gently against them, forming one long single braid down the middle of her back. Sif smiled to herself as he began to do so, and proceeded to question him amusedly despite knowing the answer.

"Where did you learn to braid hair so well, Silvertongue?" she said teasingly, looking down at her fingers as they made ripples in the water.

"Thor," Loki said bluntly, laughing to himself. "He was always such a woman."

Sif laughed loudly and leaned back into his chest, wrapping her arms around his head and gently pulling his hair down so his lips met the nape of her neck.

"No," Loki whispered into her skin, firmly yet tenderly pulling her braid down so her chin lifted up to him. He softly wrapped his hand around her neck and tilted her head back so their eyes met. "As I remember it," Loki said quietly, his eyes burning into hers, "a beautiful young shield maiden threatened to assault me if I didn't learn."

She closed her eyes as his fingers closed in around her throat, a warm desire suddenly spreading throughout her body and between her legs. The power he held over her was exasperating. He was the one person that could break her in half, both physically and mentally, and she knew it. They both knew it. Sif could bring Thor to his knees at times during their skirmishes, but Loki's quick wit and cunning temperament always held the upper hand when it came to the two of them. He was intelligent, yes, but most underestimated his physical prowess in comparison to Thor's. Sif knew better.

Quickly gathering her thoughts, she spoke, glaring up at him slyly. "So you cut off her hair…"

"I was  _so_  tired of braiding," he rolled his eyes sarcastically, beaming at her. His smile quickly faded as his gaze fell upon the rune. He hadn't quite noticed it until now.

"Ah," he sighed, eyeing the stone carefully. "It seems as though you have protection from me after all."

Sif swallowed. Certainly she hadn't forgotten her current state or the extreme events of the day, but she was enjoying pretending as if, for once, everything was normal between them.

"I don't need protection from you," she spoke frankly, suddenly breaking free of his grasp and moving to the opposite end of the tub to distance herself.

"Sif, I don't have a very good track record of keeping those I love safe from harm. In fact, I'm usually the damaging force."

"You weren't in your right mind. You haven't been. And those who claim to love you haven't done a proper job of keeping you safe from harm either."

"Don't make excuses for me," Loki snapped. "There are none for the things I have done. And tonight- I could have-"

"Stop it," she interrupted angrily, quickly standing and stepping out of the tub. "You didn't hurt me. You wouldn't hurt me. You haven't hurt me."

She looked back and could tell by the look he gave her now that he was angry, but a heavy fear and sadness in his eyes was much more apparent. He had no idea how to inform her of the pregnancy, no idea how she would react to the news that her life was in danger, never mind the lives of her unborn children –  _CHILDREN! By the Gods!_  The thought made him weak. Certainly she would leave him now, or find a way to. He knew he didn't want to tell her – the fear of her leaving him – he felt like a child afraid of abandonment. But he knew he must tell her, as much as it broke him.

"I told you I  _don't_  need protection from you," she said, practically reading his thoughts. Her hands moved slowly down to her stomach as she looked down.

"But I do need protection… for them."

 


	12. Misfortunes.

Loki blanched. He looked as if he had been punched in the stomach, and physically felt as if he had been. He had no idea she was already aware of her conception this entire time, how  _could_ she be _?_

" _The healer…_ , _"_  he whispered breathlessly as it dawned on him, choking down any anger he suddenly felt towards the old man.

She had every right to know and he was a dolt to think otherwise. He wasn't protecting her one bit by pretending this wasn't happening, and he felt ashamed for grossly underestimating her personal strength. Unfortunately, there was still plenty she didn't know.

Loki wasn't sure how she knew how  _he_  knew, but the way she spoke clearly implied that she was fully aware. She must have overhead him in the other room.  _What a perfect fool I am,_  he thought.

He sat speechless in the wash basin, staring blankly at her before snapping out of his thoughts. Sif was standing naked in the moonlight, holding herself and shivering violently, her expression pained, tears falling freely down her face. He quickly stepped out of the tub, grabbed the nearest oversized towel and wrapped the both of them in it, pulling her closely into him and smoothing her hair back from her face as he did so. Sif shook as she buried her face in his chest, her fists clenched tightly against his skin. She acted as if she were about to either beat him up or start sobbing uncontrollably. Unfortunately, in Loki's eyes, it was the latter.

" _Shh…_ ," he cooed, pressing his lips gently to her forehead and rocking her steadily in his arms.

Loki hated to see Sif cry. When they were children and she would weep, he would always try desperately to get her to stop, usually by conjuring a bird or her favorite flower, the Asgardian moonflower. It made him uncomfortable and incredibly sad, for usually  _she_  was the strong one, despite the fact that her upbringing wasn't much better than his.

"I'm sorry-," she choked out loudly, startling him. "I do not know how this has happened… I've never known something like this to happen so soon, I know, I realize you may not want this anymore, you don't have to pretend-"

He took her chin and lifted it firmly with a single finger. Her eyes remained closed, as if she were a child about to face repercussions.

"Sif, look at me…," he spoke quietly, calmly. "Darling, look at me…"

She opened her eyes, her beautiful, big, hazel eyes. The same eyes she had all the days he had known her, only the look in them now was foreign. She had been broken by him, by his disappearances, by his misgivings, by his feigned death, and now this. To think _he_  wouldn't want  _her…_

He reached up, cupping her face in his hands and proceeded to search her eyes intently. "How could you think that _I_  could ever not want  _you_?" he emphasized, his own tears starting to form. "I've waited,  _literally,_  my entire life to hold you as I am now, to feel your skin against mine, to kiss your mouth-," he cried, running his thumb across her lower lip. Slowly, he crouched down in front of her and pressed his lips to her stomach, running his fingers across her skin. He rested his head against her body and sighed. "To know that you love me in return. You,  _you_ are all that has  _ever_  mattered in my mundane, pathetic existence and now I find that you are to bear me my children and you think I would -  _abandon you_?"

"I didn't-"

"I know I am a monster," Loki said sadly, slowly breaking away from her to retrieve his own towel. "But I would like to think I'm not  _that_ much of one."

Before Sif had time to respond, Loki wrapped the towel around his waist and carefully picked her up in his arms, carrying her through the rooms and laying her gently down upon the bed. He covered her with several blankets, leaned her up against the headboard and fussed incessantly about how many pillows she should have behind her back.

"By the Norns, I'm not an invalid yet…," she protested, though her complaints seemed to be falling on deaf ears. Even if she was only a day along, she was grateful for his assistance for the mere fatigue from the days events was making her weak. A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she watched him intently trying to make her warm, and he caught her.

"This is nothing," he laughed. "I'm afraid I'm only going to be more bothersome to you from this point on."

"Bothersome Loki? Not a totally foreign concept...," she smiled broadly, suddenly whacking him vigorously across the head with the closest pillow.

He looked up at her wide eyed, a threatening smile creeping slowly across his face.

"Oh! This is what you want, is it? This is how you want to play?" He bit his lip and quickly jumped on the bed, grabbed another pillow and smacked her in return. He threw the pillow to the side, forcing her under him, tickling her sides until she screamed at him to stop. He loved playing this game with her.

"You are such a child!" Sif snorted, trying to catch her breath. She meticulously began to pick feathers from the pillow off her lips and shot him a dirty look.

"Ah, yes, but see," he laughed, laying down closely beside her. "You started it this time, my dear."

She glanced over at him as he laid back, looking up at the ceiling above him and smiling to himself. She loved seeing him so carefree. He was more like himself these past few days than he'd been in years. That boy she fell in love with so long ago was back next to her again, only this time, he was finally hers.

Sif sat up in bed, pulling the covers up to her chest to cover her bare skin.

"How did you know?" she asked.

Loki swallowed. He knew the question was coming, but he didn't have an answer. She was clearly exhausted and he did not want to worry her further. Not tonight.

"Does it matter?" he asked, planting a kiss upon her hand.

"I suppose it doesn't, it just seems odd that you knew so soon...," she replied. "Hels, it's odd that  _I_  know so soon. The healer came this morning and he knew as soon as he saw me. I knew they could sense such things, but it just seems impossible."

"I figured that was how you found out," Loki said. "I don't possess the magic they do, but I knew when I saw you this morning, something had changed. As for how I found out, you need to trust me, Sif. Trust me now. When the time comes, I will tell you. But believe me, now is not it."

She nodded reluctantly. She didn't like the truth of any matter being kept from her, but she did trust him – despite all of his shortcomings and mistakes, she did.

"There's my girl," he smiled, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.

"Did you have meetings earlier?" she asked as they reluctantly broke away from one another.

"I did," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Several. Mostly council meetings on the status of the Bifröst. Painfully boring," he replied. "If I had known I would one day be sitting through eons of drab conversation on that dreadful bridge, I certainly never would have pushed Thor to destroy it. Truly, I never wanted any of this."

Sif sunk down under the sheets and rested her head heavily on her pillow. Her eyes grew weary, and she smiled to herself as she closed them. Loki looked over at her, studying her face, wondering to himself what she was thinking. It was the one power he always wished to have. There were so many times growing up he wondered what she thought, about everything. Little did he know, she was usually thinking about him.

"Two. Boys. What will we name them?" she asked tiredly, her eyes still closed.

Loki, caught slightly off guard, paused before answering.

"I don't know the first thing about being a father, Sif. I never truly had one."

She opened her eyes, taking his hand gently in hers.

"But you are a good man. You are Frigga's son. You learned from her, more than you realize. You know how to love, because of her."

"I know how to love because of you. Even before I knew what love was, I loved you. We are not our parents, Sif."

Sif paused a long time. For a moment, Loki thought she might have drifted off, but the shuffling she did beneath the blankets proved otherwise.

"I still have scars from him."

Loki swallowed, suddenly closing his eyes out of sheer anger. His stomach turned. Biörr, Sif's father, was the most fearsome warrior Asgard had, and Odin's right hand man. When they were children, Sif would frequently show up to lessons and battle practices with inexplicable bruises and deep wounds painting her flesh. She always blamed it on a duel she lost or a clumsy misstep, but Loki knew better. There were times, at night, he would sit outside of her window and hear Biörr beating her in a drunken stupor. He had cast more curses on that buffoon than he had on anyone or anything else combined in his entire existence. Sometimes, Loki wondered if the whole reason Sif became a warrior was merely to learn how to defend herself against her father.

"He's a very, very fortunate man."

"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

"Because if it were possible to bring him back from the dead and kill him a second time, I would have already done it. There were so many times I knew he was hurting you, and yet I sat there, doing nothing."

She put her head down. "It's not your fault."

"Do you remember that time he "accidentally" fell off the North Tower and broke nearly every bone in his miserable body?"

" _Do_ I ever," she responded pensively. "He didn't lay a hand on me for weeks. I think it was the first time I was fully healed in ten years or so."

"There was nothing accidental about it."

"You?"

"Me. I should have killed him, Sif. I should have done it. I couldn't stand seeing you like that."

"I knew you knew. I think most people did but they just turned a blind eye to it," Sif looked down. "My mother worst of all."

Loki cautiously sat up, and pulled Sif onto his bare chest. He leaned down to softly kiss her head and began stroking her hair.

"I'm appalled at the way I treated you earlier," he said disgustedly, his stomach churning.

"You were drunk," Sif smiled, running her fingers half consciously across his bare chest. "You never could hold a drink well."

"Neither could he. There is no excuse. I love you, I would die protecting you. And them. You know that right? Nothing will ever harm you ever again," he whispered, holding her tightly to him. His eyes began to fill with tears. He knew his statement was true, he would die protecting them. But would it be enough to keep them safe forever? _  
_

"Mmhmmmm," she sighed into his chest. Loki knew Sif was at the edge of sleep now as her breathing began to slow and her body relaxed more against his.

He cautiously reached his free arm out to the side table and grabbed a small, inconspicuous box that was resting there. He removed Frigga's wedding ring -an ancient sapphire encrusted in the rarest gemstones in the nine realms – and carefully placed it upon Sif's finger.

" _Be my wife_ ," he whispered, his soft lips grazing against her ear.

She stirred, but didn't open her eyes. Instead she smiled, nodded her head and proceeded to fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Loki woke before Sif. She continued to sleep so soundly next to him, he couldn't bear to wake her. He watched her for hours instead, brushing stray hairs from her eyes, smiling to himself when her nose twitched. She was a child again, innocent and vulnerable, in need of his care. Part of him wished she could stay wherever she was now, far from the misfortunes that plagued her waking life. Far from him. Far from any prophecy.

It wasn't long then before she woke, her eyes opening to meet his adoring gaze. He wasn't sure if she remembered what he had asked her the night before, but she closed her eyes and smiled.

"So what will the court think when they see an old king marrying a young warrior?" she peeked up at him, one eye open.

He smiled broadly, but before he had the chance to kiss her, a rapping suddenly came from the window.

Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens, were perched outside on the ledge, looking in alarmingly at the two of them.

Sif quickly looked fearfully up at Loki, but his eyes remained fixed on the birds.

 

 

"He's awake."


	13. Repercussions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we see Lorelei, sister of The Enchantress, come into play. For those of you that watch Agents of Shield this chapter offers an explanation as to why Sif goes down to Midgard to bring her back. I wanted to include her as a character, as I think she might be important in the upcoming Thor movie(s). This might actually be my favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Sexual Content

"No." Sif whispered, her voice frightened.

"Sif," Loki remained frozen, his eyes transfixed on the birds as they flew off the ledge and into the morning sunlight. "Sif, listen to me now-"

"NO!" She screamed, knowing full well what was about to happen. She frantically jumped out of bed, pulled on her robe and fumbled through her drawers for a fresh tunic while Loki started off the bed after her. "He will NOT take you from me, he will NOT hurt you again! I will die before I let that-"

"Sif," Loki grabbed her arm firmly and turned her around towards him. He came inches within her face, speaking calmly yet sternly in a quiet whisper, raising a finger to her. "Sif, you need to listen to me. He's going to send the guards after me, you need to leave now, _I_  need to leave now, I cannot be seen here. Speak to NO ONE of your state, speak to no one of our love, you must pretend as if this – never happened. For now."

"No, I will not, I WILL NOT!" She screamed, punching his chest fruitlessly as if she were a child. She sank against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Never in her life had she cried more than she had in the past few days. This was breaking her.

"Stop it," Loki said angrily, though his eyes were quickly filling with tears. "Stop it. You are far more brave than this. You must be brave. For them. For me."

"I can't let them take you back there, I couldn't see you last time, tell me what to do for you, tell me what I can do!"

He sighed. He didn't want to involve her in the news he was about to share knowing full well she would try to take on the task herself, but he knew as soon as she would find out she would only be angry with him for not telling her. It was a no-win situation, in his mind.

"Sif. Yesterday, Lorelei escaped."

"WHAT? TO WHERE?" She looked up at him incredulously, as to why the status of that harlot mattered right now, but suddenly, she knew.

Lorelei was one of Loki's long-time admirers (and Sif's arch enemy) who was, like him, well versed in the magical arts. She held a strange, mystical power over men – a power that forced them into doing her bidding, whatever that might be. Loki, most of the time, was able to resist her power, which was one of the reasons she found him so intriguing and different from the rest of the men that pined after her. She had loved Loki since childhood, but those feelings were never reciprocated. They were lovers for years, but Loki only used her as a distraction from his love for Sif. He never loved her. When she figured out his true feelings (after years of being selectively blind to them), she had tried to kill Sif several times – though Sif herself never knew why. She had been a prisoner underground for years since, her powers kept at bay by a single collar that deflected them.

"Midgard. She went to Midgard. Why, and how, I don't know. I was informed of it yesterday. I'm sure the All-Father will be dispatching warriors to retrieve her, but you  _must_ have Volstagg or Fandral somehow put on the assignment, as much as I despise the git, Fandral was always one of the few that could resist her. I'm sure Odin will want you, but you must not go… Sif, you have to promise me you won't go."

"You know I can't promise that."

"You  _must,"_ he spat angrily. "You must protect  _them_ and yourself, I could not go on if anything happened to any of you. Not while I uselessly rot in chains. Send one of the warriors to fetch her. Lorelei is the one chance I might have at getting out, and then we can leave the realm together. She might hate me, but she certainly owes me. And whatever you do, do NOT tell her ESPECIALLY that you have conceived. She must not find out, or she will make certain of your death this time."

The look on her face was sad and disbelieving, but more frightened than anything. Not because of Lorelei. Not because of Odin. She was terrified of losing him again, knowing the pain he was about to endure. She watched as he hesitantly broke away from her and dressed himself in his usual black, gold and green leather ensemble. He slicked his hair back and looked into the mirror, trying not to catch her eye in it as he did so.

He turned to face her again, this time his tone cold, his eyes blank and his voice menacing. He managed a wicked smile at her. A shiver ran down her spine. Even though it was an act, his façade, her Loki was suddenly gone.

"How do I look?" He asked sarcastically, both arms out, but his smirk faded when he realized how alarmed she was by his appearance.

"Like I never fell in love with you."

He crossed the room so quickly, she didn't have time to react. A stab of fear went through her at the sight of him charging after her, but the fear quickly abated as he gently pushed her against the wall, taking a handful of her hair in his fist and forcing her lips up to meet his. She grabbed his hair, pulling him desperately into her, feeling his soft lips moving fervently in time with hers, tasting his falling tears between kisses.

"Norns be damned, I need you now, right now," Sif cried, biting the skin of his neck, feeling his hardness growing against her thighs.

Loki wanted her to leave, he needed her to be gone in case the guards came, but the smell and taste of her skin was too intoxicating. He knew he could disguise her if anyone came, otherwise he wouldn't advance on her now despite how eager he was. Quickly dropping his heavy leather trousers, he tore off her lace robe and pushed her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around him as he ravenously entered her.

Sif let out an unbridled moan at the feeling of his erection filling her, and threw her head back against the wall. He kissed her breasts, gently sliding his tongue over her aching nipples despite savagely thrusting in and out of her.

"I'm not hurting you- am I?" He asked breathlessly, worried about the state of her and his actions.

"No, no," she swallowed, smiling at him, closing her eyes as if she were in a pleasant reverie. He watched a single tear fall from her face onto her breast.

"Don't cry," he whispered, using his free hand to wipe it off of her, his penetration slowing.

Sif sensed him stopping, and the pain of reality began to set in.

"Fuck me," she pleaded through tears, looking up at him. He was clearly startled by the vulgar words leaving such a beautiful mouth, and tried hard to stifle back an amused laugh. "Fuck me, Loki. For a moment let us forget we're even here."

He immediately set her down, turning her to face the wall and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. Reaching up to grab her breast with the other, he entered her again from behind, shoving himself into her heatedly while his orgasm loomed from the sheer cries of her arousal. He moved to her hair, grasping it by the handful and pulling it back to gain more control so as to enter her more deeply.

The feeling of him growing harder inside of her with each passing moment, the control he had over her now, was more than Sif could take. She closed her eyes, her nipples grazing the cold walls with each thrust. Loki turned her back around to face him, lifted her up against the wall and plunged deeper and deeper, sweat pouring down his forehead, veins throbbing in his neck.

He closed his eyes as he felt her tightening around him, her hands pulling hard at his hair. The look on his face was her undoing and the look on hers was his. As their eyes met, their pleasure took over and the two lovers collapsed breathlessly onto the floor.

Loki slowly sat up after a while, fixing his trousers as he did so. He closed his eyes and softly beat his head back repeatedly against the wall, only thinking about how sorry he was that he couldn't continue to enjoy the feel of her skin against his right now, but the sooner he broke away, the better. This was too painful.

"I love you, Sif," he whispered, trying hard to choke back any fresh tears that were forming.

"And I you, silver tongue," she replied, reaching for his hand.

Suddenly, the look on his face changed. He was clearly studying something, his eyes narrowing. Moments later, his eyes grew wide as a loud sound approached and banging suddenly came upon the door.

"They're here," he panicked. "Get inside your cloak cupboard. Now."

"Loki-"

"DO AS I SAY!"

Just as soon as Sif made her way into the cupboard, the doors of her bedchambers burst open. Nearly ten guards plus Volstagg and Fandral surrounded him, arresting him where he lay.

Loki grinned up sarcastically at the warriors, as if he had just seen a pair of old relatives he despised but had to pretend he liked for the first time in years.  _What an actor he is,_ Sif thought to herself as she watched them through a hole in the cupboard.

"Miss me?" He smirked.

"SILENCE!" Fandral yelled, backhanding him hard so that he fell from his knees back onto the floor. "Unfortunately we didn't bring the gag so we'll have to suffer your insolence for now."

"Left it in Volstagg's bedchambers, did you?" Loki jested, using his legs to push himself up off the ground since his hands were now bound behind his back. To Sif's surprise, several of the guards chuckled. Fandral was seething, his eyes scanning the bedroom for any sign of her.

"Why are you here?" Volstagg asked curiously.

"Oh, you know, just playing a little prank… thought I'd get some of those lovely raven locks of hers to match the golden ones I stole eons ago. It gets a bit boring around here, even for a king. Unfortunately for me, you came just in time."

"Where is she?" Fandral asked suspiciously, remembering the other day when he walked in on her with a guard who, curiously enough, he had not been able to locate. He was not so easily fooled.

A sudden voice came into Sif's head.  _Now it's your turn to act, my love._  A muzzle suddenly appeared around her mouth, shackles around her wrists and ankles. They didn't hurt, surprisingly. In fact, she hardly felt them around her.

_Make noise._

Sif shifted in the cupboard, and the guards immediately came to her aid, opening the doors of the cupboard, and helping her out.

"LOKI! TAKE THOSE OFF OF HER!" Volstagg shouted angrily, knowing the bindings were his doing and not shackles any Asgardian guard could readily undo.

"Oh well," Loki yawned. "Perhaps next time my prank won't be foiled, dear Sif. Thank you for letting me hide out here. Of course, it was against your will, but none-the-less."

The shackles and the muzzle disappeared.

"YOU MONSTER!" She shouted, starting after him but Volstagg held her back. Little did anyone know the real reason for her tears was not because of what he had claimed he'd done, but that she desperately did not want him to leave now. She fell to the ground before him, sobbing mournfully.

Loki looked down, his eyes giving away a hint of sadness only apparent to her, but his face and demeanor remained stern.

"Shall we, boys?" Loki asked, implying that he was ready to go. He could not bear to see her like this any longer. He might just give up the game.

Fandral leaned down to help Sif, but she shoved him off.

"Leave me."

Fandral looked from her to Loki curiously.

"Come on, you fool," Volstagg said, pulling the chains that held him along with several other guards. Fandral stormed off in front of the group and out into the hallway.

Sif sat forlornly, trying to gain control of herself, but it was no use.

As Loki was dragged out from her bedchambers, the two made eye contact one last time. When no one else was looking he mouthed the words:

"Find Thor."


	14. Not This Day.

" _Find Thor?_ " Sif whispered to herself incredulously as she remained kneeling on the floor, tears stinging her raw cheeks. She listened as the footsteps of Loki and the guards grew faint and gradually picked herself off the ground. She sat a moment on the closest armchair, looking herself over in the full length mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Her face was pale and gaunt, her eyes practically swollen shut.

"What a disaster you are, Lady Sif," she spoke wearily, putting her head in her hands. Never in all her years had she been so fragile, so powerless, so afraid. A pang of anger towards Loki suddenly stung right through to her core.  _How could he have been so stupid and careless this entire time? Didn't he have a plan?_ He was the most intelligent man she had ever known. _How did he not foresee any of this happening? How could he leave her now?_

A rush of adrenalin suddenly brought Sif to her feet. She could no longer think rationally, not with the circumstances at hand. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time to free him before he reached the Allfather. She could certainly fend off the guards on her own, but not on top of Fandral and Volstagg. If she freed Loki first, they could both easily take the lot of them. Together, they could escape and she knew it. She would be damned if she didn't try.

Quickly, Sif grabbed her sword and stormed out of her chambers in the direction of where she knew they would be heading. Several passing handmaidens noticed her frenzy, but paid her no real mind as they were used to seeing her heated. Her panicked jog turned into a run as she realized they were making headway much faster than she had hoped.

As she rounded the corner and headed down the long cloister towards the great hall, Sif knew she was too late. She reached the grand doors just in time for them to close, not even able to take one last glance at the man she loved; the man she knew she could never live without again.

Slumping down heavily against the walls, Sif banged her head against the stone in defeat. Her blood was boiling, her head pounding in misery. She secretly prayed that the doors would open now so she could go and slain Odin where he sat, blind and arrogant as he always was.

"I'll kill him myself," she muttered angrily under her breath. "If he harms one hair on his body, he shall never know peace. This I vow."

At that moment, a guard approached Sif where she sat. She looked up at him apprehensively, ready to strike him too on command if need be. Instead, the guard, looking rather mechanical and unfeeling, looked straight ahead and spoke the words Sif had been expecting to hear for days.

"Heimdall requests your presence."

* * *

 

As Loki entered the hall, he kept his head down. Despite the fact that he was merely steps away from learning his fate, the only thing on his mind was Sif and his unborn children. His  _children._  He still couldn't believe the drastic events of the past few days. He was elated for the first time in so long, an emotion so raw and so new to him. The thought of the beautiful life he was capable of having was so close and yet still so very far. There were enough obstacles without Odin, he thought bitterly.

Loki took a deep breath, gathering himself properly before looking up into the stony gaze of his callous foster father. His jaw clenched and his stomach tightened at the sight of the Allfather staring down at him. He suddenly felt as though he were still a boy, about to be scolded. The thought made him cringe.

_"Don't keep being late for the evening feast, Loki. Be more mindful of your manners."_

_"If you practiced your combat skills as half as much as you read, you would make for a better warrior."_

_"Why aren't you more like your brother? Thor will make a fine king one day."_

And yet, of all the horrible things Odin had said to him, he still remembered the worst, as if it were yesterday.

_"Lady Sif will marry Thor one day. Best to set your sights elsewhere."_

Odin, unfortunately, was one of the many who knew Loki's long time adoration of Sif and dismissed it along with the rest of Asgard. Even if many saw the love she had for him in return, it was quite often mistaken for friendship or even pity. No one believed that the most beautiful, most fierce maiden in Asgard could love Loki, the quiet, odd, less handsome prince, they thought. Only those who really knew Sif knew her true feelings; Frigga, Alva, Magnus and even Thor among them. Sif's mother would secretly find ways to sabotage their relationship, trying desperately to get her to be with Thor. In the end, the reason things ended up the way they did was mostly because of Sif's mother and the antics she pulled in her final years, all for the "good of her daughter", when really it was only to look better on her part. Loki hated Evja as much as he hated Sif's father, but he couldn't help but feel she was right all along about warning Sif to stay away from him. But Odin was wrong; the great, almighty, all-knowing Odin. Sif  _did_ love him, and always had. Suddenly, he stood a bit straighter.

"Loki Laufeyson-," Odin spoke his true surname coolly, the words stinging Loki deep in a place he thought he had long since buried. "You are here before me today to answer for the most serious of crimes of which you have committed – impersonating your king. The charge against you is that of high treason, how do you plead?"

"How do I plead?" Loki responded disbelievingly, a laugh escaping his mouth. "Are we  _really_  doing this?"

"You will of course, be granted a fair trial within a fortnight. One that will be assessed and decided by myself, your peers and the magistrates of our court." 

"Are you joking?" Loki mused, looking around at the guards for any sign of a put-on. "Did she not tell you? Frigga warned me before her death-"

"DO NOT mention her name this day," Odin barked, silencing every noise for miles. "Not this day. Frigga, the only one you had standing in your corner is now dead. The only reason I am granting you any form of a trial is because despite all of this, despite  _you_ , it was what  _she_  would have wanted."

Loki swallowed. He replayed that day in his mind more often times than not. If only he had kept his mouth shut, if only he had told Kurse to go another way… It was, however, no time to break. He would not give Odin that satisfaction. Not this day.

"Oh  _mighty one,_  I do protest – what more would you damn me to? It seems as though you were quite keen on the cell for all eternity last time."

"If you are innocent, you are free to settle wherever you choose within the nine realms, Asgard being exempt. Amnesty for your previous crimes was granted upon your assistance to Thor in rescuing Jane Foster from Malekith and the power of the Aether. If you are found guilty, however… the penalty is…"

Loki swallowed. He knew, but wanted nothing more than to hear his father finally say it.

  
"Death."


	15. Monster

Sif took off in the direction of Heimdall, but hesitated, glancing back towards the hall where Loki would be. She hated leaving him, not knowing what was happening beyond those walls, but she knew avoiding the gatekeeper wouldn't be good for either one of them. She had been waiting for Heimdall to summon her for days. Would he oust her to the king? Help her as he had before? Eventually, sheer curiosity was the force that moved her.

It took her a while to approach the main gate, as she did not hurry. The guard did not follow her as she had anticipated, and for that she was grateful. It made her feel like there was less of a chance that she was about to be detained for being an accomplice to high treason, but she couldn’t be certain. 

As she walked along the Bifröst towards the Himinbjörg, she absentmindedly dragged her sword along the rainbow bridge, leaving tiny sparks in her wake. She looked up at the skies; bright pink with blue swirls, still heavy with stars as the late morning approached. Asgard was beautiful. Sif had seen many realms and yet, they all paled in comparison to the one she called home. It briefly saddened her to think of leaving it - that her children would never know the same willow she grew up under, or the meadow where she first fell in love. Then again, she would be just as happy anywhere as long as they could all live together, safely and in peace - and although she held a love for Asgard, she knew Loki did not feel the same. Everywhere he looked were painful memories. Tormented, teased, tortured. They had to go somewhere else. The thought struck her, and her heart sank. Suddenly, it felt as if that place, wherever it may be, was an unattainable fantasy.  Maybe it always was. However, in her darkest hour, just when she thought Loki was gone forever, he came back to her. Maybe all hope wasn’t completely lost. Maybe it was possible to live happily ever after. Maybe she  _could_ find Thor and bring him back to help - if she could only find a way to leave the realm. 

She approached the tall, dark figure waiting for her in front of the observatory. Although Heimdall was intimidating, he was still one of her oldest friends and certainly the wisest. He was neither a villain nor her enemy. He was the all-knowing protector of the realm and guardian of the Bifröst bridge. Anyone wishing to exit or enter Asgard’s walls would have to go through him first, and she was no exception. No one had been able to break past him in ages except for Malekith and, thanks to Loki, Laufey and his band of frost giants. The God of Mischief was certainly the master of finding his way between worlds without the help of the gatekeeper, much to the dismay of Heimdall, who was by no means Loki’s biggest fan.

 “Come in, Lady Sif,” he spoke firmly yet with that subtle hint of kindness she always heard in his voice.

“Heimdall,” she nodded, entering the Himinbjörg. She wasn’t nervous. If Heimdall had any plans to turn her in, she was confident there would be other guards present. She didn’t realize why she was here, though. He wasn’t the type to give sentimental advice, and suddenly, she was afraid that was about to change.

“Fandral and Volstagg have been worried about your state as of late,” he said, walking over to where she sat down on the stone steps before the exit from Asgard.  He sat down beside her and the two stared out into the vast expanse of the universe. Sif didn’t want to make small talk. Not now.

“Heimdall, let us not have this discussion,” she spoke firmly but softly. She was not angry with him, but now was not the time for this. There was no right time for this. “If you are to turn me for my deeds, you must do so. You have a duty as well as I. Please, I am fine.”

“You are fine now,” he sighed. “Now that Loki has returned from the dead.”

“Is there something you wish to say to me? If not, I would like to be on my way.”

Heimdall looked over at her, his eyes tired, his face sad. There was something deeply troubling him, but she knew not what.

“Lady Sif, I brought you here to inform you that you are to be sent on a solo mission to Midgard to retrieve Lorelei. I do not believe I need to explain the details as I am certain you have already been informed. The Allfather has chosen you specifically to take on the task at hand, not only because of your advanced combat skills but because you are immune to her enchantments. Do you accept?”

“I do,” Sif nodded, without hesitation. This was it. This was the only way of finding Thor. She knew Loki would hate her for it, but if she didn’t try, they were all as good as dead. “When do I depart?”

Heimdall looked at her, and looked down at her stomach, sadly. He knew. She didn’t know how, as this wasn’t Heimdall’s strongest point. This knowledge, at least so early on, was exclusive to healers and seers. Magnus must have come, she thought; to protect her, to keep her from going without having to go directly to the king. But she knew Heimdall’s primary loyalty was to Odin, and ultimately there was nothing he was going to do to stop her.

He sighed, shaking his head, his deep voice wavering as he spoke.

“You are to go… immediately.”

 

 

* * *

 

Loki learned quickly that he was not being taken to his usual cell (or his “abode” as he fondly referred to it as). Several guards marched him down several flights of stairs into a much darker, danker corridor in a lesser known part of the Asgardian prison. Loki laughed to himself in disbelief. How was it possible that he had not been here before? Odin continued to surprise him and as much as he hated to admit it, he was slightly impressed. Not even  _he_  had been aware of such a dismal place.

As they ascended deeper, the heavy smell of death and decay began to take over. Loki quickly realized he was not the first person to have the misfortune of being here, and probably wouldn’t be the last. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs they were forced to walk single file down an extremely narrow passageway, lit only by several barely lit torches lining the black stone walls. Loki made out the lining of a heavy iron door in front of him, with a tiny window near the base for sliding food trays in and out. 

“Not much of a vacation now, is it boys?” he jested, cocking an eyebrow as he looked around skeptically. To most Asgardians, being thrown in a cell like this with this much isolation would cause immediate panic to the strongest of men. But Loki had been through the depths of various hells throughout the universe. Surely, this was nothing by comparison.

“Get in,” the guard in front of him ordered, pushing the door open. The room, to Loki’s surprise, was actually quite large, though damp, dark and disgusting all the same. No windows, obviously. Nothing to sit on but a dirt floor. A single torch lay on the wall closest to the door, making it harder to see the other side of the room, but Loki made out the general size almost instantaneously. It certainly was awful, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Suddenly, and without warning, a heavy blow came to the back of Loki’s head. Before he knew what was happening, everything slowly faded into darkness. He woke what seemed like moments later, but hours, days, could have easily passed. He was alone from what he could see. What he could barely see.

He was sitting crouched down in the corner of the room closest to the door, hands bound tightly in front of him, head bobbing down to his knees as consciousness tried to catch up with him. He winced at the sudden immense pain in his right side and laid his head back slowly against the wall. Clearly he had been beaten, and badly. One, two, three broken ribs, he counted in his head, judging by the pain. His mouth was numb, swollen even, and he quickly realized he was oddly having a difficult time breathing through it. As he started to come around more, his heavy eyes widened and for the first time, he felt panic rise. Slowly, fearfully, he reached up, bringing his tied hands to his lips. He felt the familiar threads, the fresh punctures, the blood freshly dripping down his chin...

For the second time in Loki’s life, someone had sewn his lips shut. Only this time, Thor, Sif and Frigga weren’t around to help him, to cut the strings loose, to immediately bring him to a healer. The last time it had happened, he was young. The mystery assailant had also made it a point to carve MONSTER across his chest, clearly leaving him alone in the meadow to bleed out in such a state. The wounds were not ones he himself could heal, his magic useless against the threading. It took a lot to shake him to his core, but even in recent years Loki would frequently wake up in the middle of the night, feeling his face and gasping for air. It was something he was never able to shake off, and was now having to traumatically relive. Alone.

He reached down to grab the shiny platter of food placed next to him, wiped the inedible scraps off and ripped the rest of his shirt which had already been torn to pieces. Shaking violently, he pulled the platter up and, using it as a makeshift mirror, turned it to face him. There, clearly carved across the center of his chest was the word MONSTER.

Screaming loudly, mostly internally as the sound would not properly come out, he threw the platter across the room, breathing heavily in though his nose, tears pouring down his face. He felt vulnerable, exposed, afraid - afraid for Sif. Whoever had done this to him had clearly been watching him his whole life, someone who knew of his parentage long before he had, someone who had access to this cell at their leisure. Someone who had been there, right next to him, all along. Someone who could be planning the same for Sif, or worse. The answer was clear in hindsight, though it still surprisingly pained him to admit it. Still, he finally let himself believe what he had feared all along, and the unabashed anger seared through him, the pain worse than any physical torment he could endure.

_Odin._


	16. Wake Up Now.

A week had passed since Sif had been dispatched to retrieve Lorelei. She had no news of Loki, other than his trial was to be in a week, and her nerves were starting to get the better of her. It took what little strength she had not to break down every barrier in the palace to see him, but she remembered his advice to lay low and agreed, as difficult as it was. Her mission to Midgard had been successful – Lorelei was back behind bars. Unfortunately, her secret plan to make contact with Thor was less successful.

With the help of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Agent Coulson, Sif was able to send word to Thor via post, explaining the entire situation at hand while still being as cryptic as possible in case of interception. Coulson explained that they could contact him sooner by way of more advanced technology (he bragged momentarily about having Jane Foster on speed dial), but Sif was seeking a more discreet method. Coulson originally didn’t want Sif contacting Thor, but since he needed her to contain the threat of Lorelei (which she could have easily taken her time with), the two reached an amicable bargain. Since Heimdall was keeping a close watch on what she was doing, she knew she wouldn’t be able to casually show up at Jane’s flat requesting Thor’s presence. She was on a specific mission from Odin; any unauthorized plans made without permission could result in her immediate expulsion from Asgard. Then what use would she be? Even though she was sure Heimdall knew what she was up to (as he always did), there were times he missed minor details. To her great relief, nothing was ever spoken of any sent letter upon her return.

Coulson explained the post could take several days or more before reaching its destination, and sometimes, without warning, it never did. Certainly, if he were to receive the letter, by now he would have. What if he didn’t come? What if he was too angry with the both of them to even care anymore? What if the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was untrustworthy and she was duped into sending a letter that was never to be received? She tried hard not to think of such things; all she could do now was continue to wait - even if waiting was never her strong suit.

As she lay in bed, watching the moons rise into the night, she felt beside her for the man that was not there. She had been relying on various tinctures given to her by Magnus to calm her, to get her through the days and nights without him, to be strong for the little ones growing inside of her, but there was nothing strong enough to fill the void she felt with him not there. She knew he was alive, being kept in the same cell as before; nothing overly desolate or confining, but it didn’t stop her from missing the feeling of his skin against hers. She wondered what he was currently doing. Probably having a laugh at the expense of a guard, or maybe had his head buried deep in one of his books. The thought made her smile. Little did she know, his experience in the dungeons was much different this time around.

 

In the past week, a small bump had started to form in her lower abdomen. Æsir pregnancies lasted a little over one-ninth of the Midgardian length, meaning that Sif was to be a mother in about a month’s time, more or less. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her figure hidden for long, and that her situation was quickly growing dire. If Odin knew of her state, that she had been an accomplice to treason, she would certainly be thrown in the dungeons without a thought. Eventually she would go on trial as well and be sentenced to the same fate as Loki, regardless of her situation. She knew he had gotten himself out of countless sticky situations, but somehow felt this time would be different. Odin wouldn’t go easy on him. Or her.

Suddenly feeling more afraid for Loki and their unborn children, Sif pulled the covers up tightly around her, holding her stomach beneath the sheets.

"I promise…," she whispered sternly, looking down at her bump, blinking back tears that were threatening to form. "I promise no harm will come to either of you. No matter what happens, you will be safe. All of us will be. "

* * *

 

That night, Sif dreamt that Frigga came to visit her in her chambers. As she approached her bedside, she knelt down to the floor, taking Sif’s hand in hers. She told her how proud she was to have her as a daughter now; how fiercely Loki had loved her for so long and how excited she was that Sif was to bear her grandchildren.

Suddenly, Frigga turned as if she had sensed something coming, something dangerous behind her. Her face was fearful as she turned back to Sif. She opened her mouth as if to warn her of impending danger, but before the words could come out a strong gust of cold air came bursting through the open window and her expression froze. It was as if Frigga’s whole body had instantly been turned to cold stone. From behind her in the shadows appeared a menacing figure cloaked all in black; piercing blue eyes glowering at Sif.

"Who- who are you?" Sif asked, peering into the darkness, looking horror struck between Frigga and the unwelcome guest. She reached for her knife on the bedside table, but the creature only looked on in amusement and laughed.

"Do not be afraid child,  _you_  are not what I seek,” whispered the being eerily.

"Then I suggest you release the queen and be on your way," Sif responded plainly, her anger and fear growing with each passing second. Her knuckles clenched tightly around the weapon, though deep down she knew the blade would be useless against the creature before her.

The being laughed again, crossing the dark room disconcertingly until she was standing behind Frigga, who was as still as a statue. Sif could not speak as she watched the figure remove its hood. A ghastly woman, with a pale, gaunt face, icy blue eyes, and straw-like locks of blonde hair barely covering her balding head, bowed before Sif.

"Freyja… you’re Freyja," Sif covered her mouth quickly, stifling a scream. She knew well of the Vanir witch and her disturbing prophecies."What do you want from me?"

"Lady Sif, what I want is quite simple," the woman croaked, her cold, beady eyes wandering from Sif’s face to her stomach. "I want what is mine."

Sif’s heart lurched in her chest as she realized, for whatever reason, the witch had not come for her, but for her children. ”I will kill you first. Loki will kill you if I fail.”

Freyja boomed with laughter. “Why does everyone believe that I am so easy to kill? Have I been that far off my game this entire time? Besides, it doesn’t look like the God of Mischief is entirely on his game either these days… rotting away in chains in the deepest depths of the dungeons… his magic rendered useless… his spirit fading with every passing hour…”

Suddenly, Freyja conjured a foggy green orb out of thin air and deep within the globe Sif could clearly see Loki, slumped to the ground in a rather dark and odd looking cell. His eyes were swollen and closed, his head hung dejectedly, and, to Sif’s greater horror, his mouth was sewn shut, crusted over with dried blood. Clearly, he had been like this for a while.

Sif suddenly leapt from the bed and ran to face the witch. She was no longer afraid, but seething at the sight of Loki in such familiar pain and despair. “It was you – all along, it was YOU. YOU TORTURED HIM! YOU TORTURED A CHILD! WHAT DID HE EVER DO TO DESERVE SUCH PAIN? WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS?”

"HE STOLE MY LIFE FROM ME! Years ago, I had fallen in love with a great warrior, the  _greatest_  warrior, and there was a time, however fleeting, that he loved me too… but another maiden crossed his path and suddenly, I was of no more importance to him…,” Freyja spat as her eyes quickly flickered to Frigga.

Sif suddenly realized. “Odin. You loved… Odin.”

"Very good, you’re not as daft as you look. Yes, I loved Odin," the witch turned to look out the window, her abysmal profile outlined by the moonlight. "I watched for years at court as they flirted and gallivanted about the kingdom happily after their marriage. It was sickening. Then they had Thor. For several years after his birth, they fought constantly and for a time there were rumors that they were falling apart. Then Loki came along, and everything changed. I never saw them so happy before. He breathed a new life into them… a love unlike anything I had ever seen…"

“ _Odin?_  Love Loki? The only reason Odin wanted Loki was to keep the frost giants at bay!”

"You are all fools. I have known the king a very long time, and I have never seen him so happy than he was when they decided to take in that monstrosity. Why do you think he falls into the Odinsleep so frequently these days? He cares too much, I’m afraid. Loki was never going to be anything other than a nuisance. He will be the death of the king."

"You’re wrong. He is no longer under the influence of Thanos. He is a good man. He loves me. And I love him. I have always loved him. What sort of monster has the capacity to love someone  _so_  much? You have tortured him for no reason… all these years… you have been the haunting shadow, always behind him. All because of some tryst you had with someone who was never to be yours. Odin will never love you, not even with Frigga gone, and especially not now if all you say is true. What could you possibly gain by taking two harmless children?”

"Everything."

Sif looked at the witch with a mixture of confusion and utter contempt.

"There is a prophecy… ," Freyja continued, slowly pacing back and forth. "… a prophecy that has never come to be, at least, not until the two of you converged. If a frost giant bears two sons, twins, with an Asgardian goddess, an Æsir, their blood will be so sacred, so powerful, that I will be far from the only one seeking it. The Tesseract, the Aether. Nothing compared to what I could do by spilling the blood of those two innocents. I will restore my beauty, my youth. I will become more powerful than Odin, more powerful than any being in the nine realms. And once I have it… it cannot be taken from me."

Suddenly, Frigga sprung quickly back into life, conjuring a scepter out of thin air and pressed it to the witch’s throat. Sif noticed the Eolh symbol, the same mark on the protective rune Magnus had given her, carved into the side of the scepter.

"You may come here for what you seek, but it shall never be yours. Be gone!"

With that, as quickly as she had come, Freyja disappeared, cowering back into the shadows, holding her neck as if she had been injured by the staff.

Frigga turned to Sif, grabbing hold of her shoulders as she did.

"The prophecy is true, but do not be afraid. She can be defeated. You  _must_  know this. Freyja will not stop until she has your children. She has lied to Loki, telling him that the frost giants will come for you and for them, and the only way to stop them is for Loki to die or return or for your children to take his place. These are  _lies_. She wants him dead, or far enough away from you so that you will have little protection. The frost giants have no interest in bringing Loki back to Jötunheim, or any kin of Loki’s for that matter. But if they learn of the prophecy and of your state, if anyone does, you will find more than frost giants at the gates of Asgard.”

Before Sif had any time to ask how Freyja was to be defeated, Frigga continued, touching the rune around Sif’s neck. “Hold on to this, keep it on, wherever you are, wherever you go. This will keep you safe, for now. Wake up, my darling girl. Wake up now. You must go to him. You will be safe. You have company…”

Sif sat straight up in her bed, her room looking exactly the same as it was in the dream, only no Frigga, and no Freyja. The moon shone brightly through the window, casting a long beam of light on the floor as a heavy breeze flowed from the outside. Sif shivered though sweat was pouring down her face. She lit a candle on her bedside table and sat a minute, holding the rune closely to her chest, looking around the room for any movement.

After briefly contemplating what had just happened, Sif quickly ran over and began getting dressed, fully preparing herself to do whatever she had to get Loki out of his current situation. There would be no more waiting around. Freyja would soon kill him, for sure.

"I have company?" she whispered confusedly, suddenly remembering Frigga’s last words to her.

With that, a light knock came upon the door, making Sif jump where she stood. Grabbing the closest glaive, she creaked open the door, brandishing the weapon in front of the stranger to make her threat known. To her horror, a tall, unidentifiable hooded figure stood before her.

"What do you want?" she whispered through the crack, eyeing the figure closely. "Who are you?"

The figure reached up, hesitantly removing its hood.

Sif gasped, immediately dropping her weapon to the ground.

It was Thor.


	17. Traitors in the House of Odin.

“Is it really you?” Sif whispered, furrowing her brows as she tried hard to comprehend the presence of the man before her. Was she still dreaming?

“It is, good Lady Sif,” he nodded, half smiling down at his old friend. “May I enter?”

Sif flung the rest of the door open so hard, it hit the wall and bounced off with a resounding crash. She quickly pulled him into her room, flinging her arms around his neck. She embraced him so fiercely he began to gasp slightly for air between laughs. She did not know how he had gotten through Heimdall’s observatory without the Allfather encroaching on them by now, but she did not care. There was no time for explanations.

“I received your letter,” he winced, spitting out words as best as he could with her arms slightly choking him. “I came as soon as I was able.”

“I am most happy to see you,” she panted looking up into his sad, worn out gaze. “I know- I know you thought he was dead, we all did…,” Sif said, beginning to feel faint from all that was happening. She steadied herself momentarily, holding on to his arms for comfort, for rest.

Seeing Thor again was both a relief and sadness so profound; she knew she was no longer to bear this burden alone, but she was all too aware of the pain and confusion he felt. Thor had been there when Loki had feigned his death. He held his brother in what he thought were their last moments together, and he was never the same after. She knew, although he kept it well to himself, that one of the main reasons he couldn’t stay in Asgard was because of Loki. There was too much sadness, and too much anger towards his father for keeping both him and his brother in the dark all these years in regards to Loki’s true origins. His brother had turned against him so quickly after learning the truth, and though it hurt Thor deeply, he never blamed him. He didn’t expect Loki to believe him when his own mother and father had lied to him. Sadly, it was a lie they both believed.

 “Sif, you are safe,” he said softly, smoothing back her hair. He held her away from him at arm’s length, looked down at her small bump and smiled. His blue eyes beamed, though he looked tired. “I am to be an uncle then. You two… after all this time…”

“I love him, Thor.”

“Aye, I know. And he loves you. Despite what he is and what he has done, he loves you. He always has," Thor nodded solemnly at her. "He is still my brother and even though he has betrayed me, he still helped save the woman I love. You must know that I would have come back regardless though, for your sake alone.”

“I know, and I thank you for it,” she gasped, finding the strength to pull herself together at the thought of Loki in that awful cell. “We have to go – now. We cannot wait. I’ll explain on the way.”

 

* * *

 

 

“FREYJA?” Thor boomed loudly as Sif continued to enlighten him on the situation at hand. He angrily stopped in his tracks as they walked down the narrow corridor towards the cell, his voice echoing loudly off the walls. “IT WAS THAT TRAITOROUS WITCH ALL ALONG?”

“Hush now, keep your voice down,” Sif pleaded as they approached the door. It was a miracle they were able to slip past the guards as easily as they had, and she didn’t want to spoil it now. She too felt her anger boiling over at the thought of Freyja, but she had to hold it together. Loki needed them now.

“I should have known,” Thor’s voice began to go quiet, and Sif looked over at him to see the anger in his eyes melt away into sadness. “We were always playing by that wretched forest where she would taunt us from time to time.”

“Stop it. You didn’t know. You would have stopped it. We all would have. If your mother couldn’t see that it was her, none of us would have.”

“When father hears of this-”

“Not now, Thor…”

“I should have been there for him,” he said, solemnly shaking his head in disbelief. “I should have known that there was more to all of this. That last time this happened, it was an isolated incident, but that was no excuse to stop searching for the culprit. It was horrific. And now you are all in grave danger for it.”

“Thor, listen to me,” Sif replied sternly, turning to face him. “This isn’t the time. We need to get him out of here. I know the guilt, I know it all too well. But what happened has happened. It’s in the past. We still have the chance to help him now, and I- I need him,” she swallowed, her voice cracking at those last words. “Besides, according to this prophecy we are in grave danger, Freyja or no Freyja.”

Thor looked like he had been hit with his own hammer, but Sif could waste no more time comforting his futile remorse. She turned and placed her torch momentarily in a nearby wall bracket as they approached the cell, fumbling with the keys they had swiped from the main guard (who was either sleeping or had far too much mead – of that they couldn’t tell), but her efforts were in vain.

“Damn these things,” she whispered, quickly losing her patience. None of the keys seemed to fit no matter how hard she tried to force them.

“Allow me,” Thor said, stepping in front of her without further thought. Somehow, when she saw the look on his face, she knew any further requests for him to keep quiet were fruitless. From underneath his billowing red cloak came Mjölnir, and before she could open her mouth, the door to the cell was blasted through, leaving shards of stone in its wake.

Sif closed her eyes as she entered, taking a moment to mentally try and prepare herself, but no amount of preparation could make her ready for what she was about to witness. As the dust settled, there, in a far corner of the cell, was Loki, chained to the wall and hunched over. From what she could make out with the light of Thor’s torch, one eye was completely bruised and swollen shut, the other closed. His long, unruly hair was partially stuck to the side of his face with bits of dried blood and his mouth was still sewn shut. His shirt was torn, the word MONSTER barely legible as ample amounts of blood had been smeared over it. If it hadn’t been for the rise and fall of his chest, Sif would have thought him dead already.

“Oh...,” she gasped breathlessly, dropping to her knees in front of him, fumbling for the key to release his wrists from their bindings. As she freed him, she gingerly stroked the right side of his face and rubbed his wrists with her left hand. Still, there was no movement from him. Sif turned to face Thor who was still standing by the remains of the entrance to the cell. He looked sick. They were both reliving one of their very worst childhood memories.

“Hand me the flask,” she demanded, tears stinging her face as she pulled a tiny dagger from inside of her cloak. She thought that by barking an order at him it would snap both of them out of their trauma; she was wrong. 

Thor stepped forward as he realized the daunting task she was about to undertake.

"Sif, you are in no state to handle th-”

"No, I will do this,” she said silently, holding up her hand at him to silence any more protesting. She was shaking. The cell was suddenly so silent, the only sounds she could hear was the pounding of her heartbeat. "Again."

Thor stepped closer and knelt by her side, handing her the flask of grain alcohol she had requested he grab before they left her chambers.

Retrieving a clean rag she had tucked into the other pocket of her cloak, she moistened the cloth with a few drops and began wiping her blade with it. She wouldn’t bother to use the alcohol to clean his wounds – it would only pain him, and right now, she didn’t know how much more he could handle. She took the cloak from her back and wrapped it around him, trying hard to cover the bare skin across his chest. 

Thor took off his cape and draped it over Sif’s back. He knew there was no use arguing with her about who should do this, as once her mind was made up, that was it. They probably should have taken him immediately to a healer, but both him and Sif silently agreed that his mouth would not stay sewn shut another minute, for if he awoke, the fear in his eyes would be too much for them to bear. She had cut him loose the last time they found him. She wouldn't see that look again if she could help it.

“Hold the torch closer,” she swallowed, trying hard to focus on the task at hand rather than stare at the man she loved who had been driven to an unconscious state from sheer agony.

 _One, two, three, four, five, six… six X’s…_ Sif counted in her head methodically. The blood was thickly crusted across his lips, and she could barely tell where his mouth ended and the stitches began.

Nervously, she slipped the tiny blade underneath one sewn cross and pulled gently in a sawing motion towards her, cupping his jaw with her free hand for support. _One down, five to go._

Loki slightly stirred and moaned, but didn’t wake. She sighed with relief, as did Thor. It would only get easier to do once more were out of the way.

Once she had narrowed the stitches down to two, Loki’s brows began to furrow, and his moans grew slightly louder and more prevalent. Thor had to hold Sif from shaking.

Suddenly, the eye that was not swollen flung open and stared blankly ahead in terror. It was as if he couldn’t see Thor or Sif directly in front of him and was looking at something that wasn’t there. He looked like he was still very much in the middle of a horrific nightmare, fearful of something they could not see while gasping desperately for air.

“ _Darling_ ,” Sif gasped, nearly dropping the knife, but Thor held onto her arm still so as to steady it. He was in as much shock as she was, his chest tightening as he looked into the conscious face of his brother; a sight he was certain he would never see again.

“Loki, I need to finish,” Sif said sternly yet apologetically, running her thumb gently across his cheek. He flinched at the sound of her voice. She pushed back his hair, trying desperately to hold his face steady against the wall. “We need to get you to Magnus. I can’t pull these out, but I can cut the rest of them.”

Loki shook violently, tears streaming down his face. Hw followed her voice and he finally, conscientiously, found her gaze. The relief in his face was apparent. His hand moved shakily, slowly to touch her knee and as he felt her warmth beneath his fingertips, his eyes closed and half smiled, silently thanking the Gods.

“Two more. That’s all. Let me finish,” she croaked authoritatively, unable to take much more of seeing him like this, unable to keep her hands off of him. He nodded dreamily, his eyes still closed as she quickly, painlessly cut the final two stitches loose.

As soon as she finished the job, she threw her dagger to the side and forced her lips upon his, thread and crusted blood be damned. He winced slightly at the weight of her against his broken bones and open wounds, but the feel of her soft, warm flesh against his cold skin was too good.

“Say something to me,” she demanded loudly as she broke away from his lips, her tears falling onto his chest. “I need to hear your voice.”

He weakly reached up and cupped her face with his hands. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled gently down on the locks, forcing her to look up at him.

“ _Freyja_ \- she made me believe you were gone-."

"Freyja is a liar _,_ " Sif cooed, brushing the strands of hair away from his face. "I am here now."

“I thought- Odin.But it was her. She told me everything," he croaked, his voice barely audible. "She showed me an image of you and I thought... I thought you were dead.”

“An awful feeling, no doubt,” Thor spoke suddenly, harshly for the circumstances. Loki hadn’t noticed anything other than Sif until this very moment, and his grip on her tightened protectively at the sudden sound of another voice in the room.

Loki swallowed hard and looked up at Thor. He knew it wasn’t the time for a lengthy discussion about how wrong he had been, about so many things, but the look he gave his brother had to be enough for now.

Sif understood Thor's pain, but now wasn't the time for it. She brushed Loki’s face once more and slowly stood, reminding them that it was imperative they left immediately. Guards would soon be coming, and they still had such a long walk to reach Magnus. She thought now that they had Thor with them Odin was more likely to listen to their story, but she still didn't want to bother with his soldiers at such a late hour. Not when Loki needed to be healed sooner rather than later.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me for all of eternity then,” Loki said to Thor, regaining some of his cockiness.

“Don’t make me break your other set of ribs,” Thor muttered angrily as he hoisted his brother cautiously off the ground. Once it was abundantly clear that Loki could not walk on his own, Thor kept one of his arms around his brother’s waist and let him lean against him with his arm around his neck.

“Why didn’t you use magic?” Sif suddenly turned to ask Loki. She knew all of Odin's cells were enchanted so that no one could escape, but Loki was still able to use magic in his previous cell. Then again, this was far from the likes of his previous cell.

“It doesn’t appear magic works within these walls,” he winced as he took his first few steps.

Sif smiled faintly to herself at the sight of the two men behind her. However sad and harrowing the circumstances were, she missed seeing the two of them busting each other. It had been far too long. 

"Besides," Loki continued after a short, silent while. "I've never been the best at healing."

"Oh, you mean like the time I injured my leg during field training and you turned my foot into lead?" Thor mused, trying hard to hide the smile that threatened at the thought of that particular memory.

Loki couldn't help but stifle laugh, especially after hearing Sif's contagious giggles ahead of them. He was grateful for the jest.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, a strong feeling of remorse swept over Loki as he looked at Sif. He would never tell her that in the moments before she came he had found himself in a deep sleep that he was hoping never to awaken from, for a life without her wasn't a life at all. More guilt followed when he glanced up at his brother, who was carrying him to safety, despite everything he had done. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, that would relay his gratitude - an emotion he was quite certain had left him long ago.

"Odin will be proud of you for coming back," was the only thing he managed to say, and it didn't even come out properly.

Thor stopped and turned to face his brother.

"I didn't do it for him."


	18. Saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this has, once again, taken way too long to update. Lots of personal health crap going on, but I WILL say that unless I get significantly sicker and/or am dead, it will never be this long again. I love writing this fic, and have tons of ideas for it, and want nothing more than to finish it (in good time) so you can look forward to more (if anyone is still following)!
> 
> Also, important notes: I went back, did some editing, and replaced bad dude Fandral with Balder instead. I just didn't like the idea of Fandral being a bad guy, didn't make sense to me. It isn't important to the story. I wouldn't change anything detrimental, but I just wanted to let y'all know. 
> 
> Happy reading, and thanks for all of the support!
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: Explicit Sexual Content**

The three silently made their way through the dungeons and back up to the main halls. It was a miracle they had been able to slip past the guards again, Sif thought to herself, and she was certain Loki and Thor were both conscientious of that same fact. It was, however, even more of a miracle that Odin himself had not tried to stop them or at the very least, Heimdall. Something was wrong. Asgard was too quiet.

By the time they reached the healer, Loki had deteriorated both physically and mentally. He had become so weak from walking that Thor nearly had to carry him for the last half of their journey, much to his incessant protesting. They brought him over to a cot in the far left corner of the main room, a large area where Magnus both practiced his profession and cooked his meals. There was a roaring fireplace on the right wall with a large pot hanging over the blaze and a sizable stone table just to the left of it. On top of the table was a pitcher full of water alongside thick slices of fresh bread and stew; it was clear he had planned on having company.

On the opposite side of the room, dark wooden bureaus and shelves full of various potions lined the walls. Sif shivered as she stood next to the fire, dropping her weaponry and hugging her chest as she watched the two men hover over Loki’s weak form. Thor stared down intently, his eyes darting quickly back and forth between his brother and the old man. Magnus moved fast to heal Loki’s superficial cuts, but warned his ribs would take longer to fully mend. His mental status was another matter entirely.

Thor sat down next to the table while Sif moved to sit beside Loki, teetering on the edge of insanity as she watched his face painfully distort at the medicine being applied. After a few minutes of nothing encouraging happening, she began to panic, but visibly relaxed once she saw the wounds begin to rapidly close and heal. Loki’s writhing and sharp gasps had finally ceased, and before long, his hand in hers, he fell into a light sleep.

She watched over him for a short while before reluctantly making her way over to join the two men at the table.  She began the daunting task of explaining to Magnus about Freyja, her dream, and the awful state they found Loki in. She occasionally glanced up at the old man who was nodding, deep in thought. When they were finished discussing the problems at hand, he quietly got up and began fixing plates of stew for his guests.

“It isn’t much,” Magnus said, filling her plate to the brim with food. “I had a feeling you’d come, and I’m afraid this is all I could conjure last minute.”

“It’s fine, Magnus, thank you,” Sif whispered gratefully while Thor nodded in agreement. She forced down the meal, trying hard not to be obvious as she did so. She felt very much like throwing up. It wasn’t that it didn’t taste good; she simply didn’t have much of an appetite. The sight of finding Loki was still very much reeling in her mind and she had to conscientiously make an effort not to lose control of her stomach.

“How did you know we were coming?” Thor suddenly inquired suspiciously. He did not know Magnus well, but Sif apparently seemed to trust him entirely which, normally, was good enough for him. However, he felt the need to ask.

“There is something dark stirring in the air tonight. I had a premonition you were in trouble, and I seem to be correct. ”

“How is it that no one has captured us by now?” Sif whispered, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “The entire kingdom is far too quiet. You would think, Heimdall would…”

“Indeed,” Magnus interrupted, his face exceedingly worried. “There is something terribly wrong. What that is exactly has yet to be seen. By now we know for certain that Freyja has penetrated the walls of the palace. Even though there is a strong cloaking enchantment surrounding us, I’m afraid if she wanted to find us, nothing would stop her. I daresay she let you three escape from that cell on purpose.”

Sif shivered. She turned back towards Loki, fearfully watching him closely to make sure his breathing was steady. She relaxed once she saw he looked peaceful and turned back to Magnus.

“Were you aware such a prophecy existed?” she blurted out, hoping that he didn’t.

Magnus sighed before continuing. “The prophecy is true, I’m afraid. I’ve been aware of its existence.”

“Why did you not inform me of it?”

“My dear girl,” Magnus replied, his voice heavy with sadness. “I did not know the prophecy was for certain with you specifically until now. I had a feeling Freyja had her hand in this all along, but not even I can foresee many impending events of the future. I did, however, give you that for protection, just in case,” he pointed to the rune around her neck.

“What use is an old rune?” Thor asked irritably, his mouth stuffed to the brim with food. Sif shot him a look. 

“It is not simply any old rune. A long time ago, Frigga came to own the Elhaz scepter, an ancient staff forged close to the dawn of time, its protective powers so great, not even those who retained the infinity gems would be able to harm whoever possessed it.”

“The scepter from my dream,” Sif’s eyes widened, as Magnus nodded. Thor put down his fork, suddenly losing any further interest in his meal. “Where is it now?”

“Frigga had it split into several parts, just as the Allfather had the gems sent to all corners of the universe. Together, as one piece, it is too powerful. The scepter was able to be altered, but not entirely destroyed.”

“What does this have to do with my rune?”

“Your rune was the smallest part of it.”

Sif reached up to grasp the stone around her neck. It was cool and smooth beneath her fingers. She held it tightly. 

“Where are the other pieces of the scepter? Does anyone else know of its existence?” Thor asked quietly.

“Of that, I’m afraid I cannot say for certain.”

“What if we find the missing parts?” Sif inquired. “Will the scepter restore itself? Will we gain lasting protection from it?”

“I do not know. If restored, those closest to you will certainly be safe, I would assume. It holds great power, power that, if held in the wrong hands, could mean the end of the nine realms. Your mother was smart to separate it. I’m afraid though, that piece around your neck will keep  _only_  the wearer from harm.”

"How was it that you came by this?" Sif whispered, lowering her voice.

"Your mother trusted me," he nodded to Thor, noticing his particular interest in the matter. "No one would suspect an old fool to be in possession of such a powerful relic. She wanted to keep a small part of it close by, knowing that it was safe with me until one of you might be in need of it if... something were to happen to her." 

Sif looked from the old man slowly back to Loki, noticing that he was now fully awake and listening in on the conversation. He looked angry, and lost deep within his own mind - a dangerous thing.

Strong wave of sickness hit her once more. She wanted to forget the way she had seen him in the prison cell, but the disturbing images were still too fresh in her mind. Even though he looked remarkably better, at least in the physical sense, it was doing nothing for her nerves. 

Thor took notice of Sif’s attention, and turned to notice Loki staring despondently at the ceiling. His eyes flickered from his brother to Magnus, and an alarming look came across his face.  “Why does he not speak- or jest?” Thor spoke, breaking the profound silence in the room.

Before Magnus or Sif had the chance to answer, the three watched as Loki feebly pushed himself up on the cot to lean against the wall, as if he had been abruptly snapped out of a reverie.

“Because,” Loki croaked, turning his eyes darkly towards his brother while wincing. “His body is currently much like your brain. Full of holes.”

Thor smiled, but Sif didn’t laugh. She noticed Loki staring at her solemnly, his expression unreadable. She was unsure of how much more he would be able to take, of anything. His body was on the mend, but his mind, she wasn't sure of. Maybe once he was too far gone from her again, he would be lost forever.

Magnus left the room momentarily before rushing back in with several towels in his hands, breaking the intense gaze the two were locked in. “There is a bath of hot water in the back. You need to soak for a short while. The oils will continue to heal you. Rest your mind now.”

Loki stared at the old man, clearly thinking hard about something else. He nodded curtly at Magnus before standing and wrapping a sheet around his waist, taking off down the hall in a heated saunter, towels bunched in his right hand. Sif started after him, but thought better against it once she heard the door to the washroom slam. 

“It is not your doing, Sif,” Thor quickly interjected, noticing the look of disdain on her face, knowing well that she was taking the blame for his misery.

“Of course it is,” she replied, folding her arms around herself and looking down at her stomach sadly. “He’s doing all of this for me. For us. If it wasn't for any of this he would be better off. Freyja never would have tortured him.”

“Yes she would have, and she did. Do not forget this,” Thor pointed at her in sincerity. “You know as well as I do now that she has loathed him since he was brought to this realm as a child. She would have continued to plague him so long as he remained in Asgard. I must beg you to see this.” 

“He wanted to leave all of this. In the end, he did not want any of it. He was making preparations to leave the realm. He stayed because you left and the Allfather fell into the Odinsleep. He stayed as a promise to Frigga. He stayed because I- I did something stupid,” Sif’s hand quickly covered her mouth in an attempt to shut herself up. She could no longer hear the words, the painful words that plagued her with guilt, though true they were. He stayed because she was weak. Because she tried to take her life. Yes, he loved her, there was no doubt of that. But she was ultimately the reason why he stayed and the reason he now suffered more.

Thor’s head dropped at her statement. “You must realize, he now has something to live for. Before, he simply did not. Nothing he could see, at least. Had I known he lived, I would have stayed, Sif. I would have tried to help him. No matter what he has done, no matter what he has become, he is still my brother. He saved Jane. He didn't have to, but he did. I would have seen to it that his life was not for the axe or an eternal cell."

The three sat in silence for a while. No one made any attempt at lightening the heavy mood. Magnus quietly brewed a pot of tea, and Sif sipped it quietly, the strong essence of ginger placating the nausea she felt. She looked down at the ring around her finger, and clenched her fist tightly. 

“How are you feeling, Lady Sif?” Magnus asked, a bit more cheerfully. It wasn’t exactly lightening the mood, but the sweet smile on the old man’s face warmed her momentarily.

“As well as I can feel, I believe, given the circumstances,” she replied wearily, hearing the door to the washroom suddenly open and Loki’s familiar footsteps down the hallway. She quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek and her voice turned hushed, so as not to vex him any further. “It’s hard to have much of an appetite, but I do try.”

“If you are in need of more ginger root, all you must do is ask,” the old man replied, looking over his spectacles at her.

“Thank you,” she nodded sincerely. “Though I do wish ginger root would solve more than just my nausea.”

“I vow,” Thor suddenly learned forward in his chair toward Sif, looking rather serious as though he had just made a very important decision. “No harm shall come to you - to any of you. You needn't worry, good Lady Sif. About anything.”

“ _Son of Odin_ ,” Loki’s amused yet dark voice suddenly came from behind them, making Sif jump even though she was well aware of his impending presence. The back of her chair faced him and she did not turn in his direction. “At least I don't make empty promises.”

Thor took a moment before responding, resisting the urge to throw his brother from one end of the room to the other for the sake of Sif alone. He couldn’t believe Loki was standing there, back from the dead once more, but he wasn’t about to let his jab slide, despite what he had just been through. He was furious at Loki; furious at him for a million reasons. “It’s refreshing that your petulance is still intact, brother. I was beginning to worry that it was lost to us.” 

Loki ignored his remark and began walking around the perimeter of the room, lost in thought and paying no mind to Sif where she sat. Magnus stood and began following him around, fussing as he tried hard to get a closer look at the wounds. Loki shrugged him off several times, attempting to reach some sort of conclusion deep in his troubled mind.

“Your highness, I must beseech you to rest, you are still quite unwell,” the old man begged quietly, gesturing towards one of the empty chairs.

“ _Freyja_ ,” Loki said, mostly to himself, shaking his head. “How was it that she was able to fool me for so long…”

“She fooled us both,” Thor replied resolutely, standing from his chair to offer it to his brother. “It is fruitless to dwell on the past. You must sit.”

Loki, once again, ignored those around him, much to the growing annoyance of Sif. She knew he had just endured a hell she could never fully comprehend, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed to calm down before he hurt himself further.

“She  _will_  pay for what she has done."

“Loki, sit down,” Sif said calmly, turning in her chair to face him. When he ignored even her request, her anger began to boil over.

“We will fix this,” Thor promised. “Together, we will find a way to beat Freyja at her own game.”

“We must not underestimate her,” Loki warned, continuing to pace with a limp that Sif could hear. It weighed on her. She tapped her fingers impatiently against the chair, trying hard to will herself to calm down, but it was futile. Magnus noticed Sif's distressed and decided to quickly step in before the situation escalated.

“Your highness, please sit-”

“I WILL NOT!”

“DAMNIT LOKI, SIT DOWN!” Sif screamed and stood, silencing the room. “YOU WILL BE NO USE TO ANYONE IF YOU ARE DEAD FROM EXHAUSTION!”

Loki snapped out of his vengeful fog momentarily and raised his eyebrows at her, suddenly realizing the impact of his frenzy. He looked serious for a brief moment, worried about getting her so worked up in her state, but he turned and moved his hand to cover his mouth. He looked as though he were about to burst out laughing, which pissed her off even more. 

She stared him down, her nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily through them. She watched as he leaned casually against the hall door frame, entirely naked except for a meager towel that barely covered his lower half, wanting to slap the smug look he now wore off of his face. His long, wet locks clung to his collarbone, sending beads of water down his bare chest that glistened in the warm glow of the fire light. He was beautiful and it was maddening. He was so  _maddening._

He held out his hand for her to take, but she ignored it. She instead fetched the pitcher of water and filled a mug, forcing it unfeelingly into his hands.

“You need to drink something,” she muttered exasperatedly to him while avoiding his eyes.

“ _You_  need sleep,” he whispered quietly, taking the glass from her and placing it on a nearby cabinet. His eyes warmed and he smiled as he looked down at her, brushing his thumb lightly against her cheek. "We need sleep."

“There is a guest room across from the washroom,” Magnus interrupted. “The two of you should get some rest for a few hours. We can certainly keep an eye out.”  

Sif looked to Thor for further approval and he nodded encouragingly. She hated leaving the lot of them alone, especially when whatever was about to happen next was so uncertain, but she was undeniably exhausted. 

“Magnus, I cannot ask you to continue helping us. You are putting yourself in grave peril,” Sif said quietly, her eyes sad and apologetic. 

"My dear," Magnus replied, patting her arm once more. "Alva would have wanted it. It is my honor."

 

* * *

 

The two said nothing to one another as they walked down the long corridor into the small, dimly lit room. It was quaint, with crooked bookshelves lining most of the walls; the dark, four-poster bed taking up much of the room to the left. Directly across from the entrance in the middle of the wall was a large, roaring fireplace; to the right, an untidy wooden desk and more shelves full of potions.

It was a cozy room, and Sif was suddenly even more grateful for Magnus. She was safe, for now, and all that mattered was that Loki was with her, though she could hardly bring herself to look at him. She said nothing as she crossed the room to the far side of the bed and began taking off the rest of her heavy layers.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he took note of her iciness towards him. He walked slowly to the opposite side of the bed and leaned against the post, arms crossed, watching her intently. She was fully aware of his eyes on her as she stripped down to the tunic underneath her armor, but she kept her back to him still. She pushed the loose sleeves up to her elbows and unpinned her hair, trying hard to make herself look as busy as possible while avoiding his gaze.

“Sif...," he whispered under his breath, not taking his focus off of her. 

She turned toward him, slowly, her gaze catching his for a split second before her traveling to the site of his rib cage. He was significantly better than before, but the wounds still looked angry.

“Just a few more scars to add to the collection,” he winked at her, smiling encouragingly when he noticed where her eyes lingered. “Nothing severe.”

She smiled briefly at his attempt to placate her, but she was shaken. He was remarkable. The man had suffered a great deal, repeatedly, and yet, no matter how awful the situation, he always played it off like it was just a simple nuisance; that he was always somehow above it all. His unwavering cockiness and ability to rebound was both a great comfort and a disturbance. She shook her head at him incredulously and crossed the room, sprawling the rest of her belongings onto the desk. As she did, she took note of one of the scars on her hand that she had been given by her father and laughed out loud at the sick irony.

“You know as well as I that the worst scars remain beneath the surface,” was all she managed to say.  She had meant to keep the sentiment to herself, locked up in her own troubled mind, but the thought came out before she could stop it.

“What is it?” he asked, clearly frustrated by her ambiguity. 

Sif turned back around to him and leaned against the desk, her emotions getting the better of her. “What she- what she did – to you was-,” she stammered, hiding her face in her hands, hoping that in covering herself she would magically disappear.

Loki walked over to where she stood and wrapped his arms gently around her, pulling her into his chest. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed rest of her hair back while rocking her back and forth as she cried. “A mere triviality compared to the torture you’ve put me through for years,” he smirked, peeking down at her eyes for any sign of relief. 

“Loki, please-”

“Listen to me,” he spoke seriously, reaching up to trace her jawline with his fingertip. “I’m here now. And you’re safe. And nothing will break us apart again.”

“You’ve said so before,” she said, trying to break away from him though he would not let her. “You cannot keep promising me that. Do not continue rendering your words meaningless.”

“I can promise it,” he said a little more sternly, lifting her chin up to look at him. He was losing patience. He needed her to see that everything was going to be alright, even if he didn't quite believe it himself. "Look at me." 

Her eyes began to water once more, but she remained defiant. She would not look at him. The cuts and open wounds no longer plagued his skin, but every time she glanced in his direction all she could see was his lifeless body, battered and unconscious. All she could see was the anger in his eyes, the same hatred that consumed him. 

He frowned as he studied her disregard and moved in closer so that he was standing directly in front of her gaze, their lips inches apart. She would have no choice but to see him now. 

“You are the sun; radiant and blinding in all your beauty,” he reached down to grab her hand, pulling it up against his lips. “I am the shadows that have always hid from your light, dark and cowardly. You are all that is good and I am certainly all that is not. I will spend the rest of my days trying to deserve you, trying to satisfy you, failing miserably I’m sure. But, Sif, you must let me try. Let me try and protect you. Let me love you. Believe me. Believe  _in_  me."

She looked into his eyes, her heart beating rapidly at his words, wondering how it was that someone so broken could still be so optimistic; so unquestionably loving. Many would say that she would easily be the more loving one, the braver one in comparison to Loki, but how very wrong they would be. For she drew her strength from him now; strength to handle a fear that she was not well versed in. That fear was losing him. Again.

"Oh, Sif. I have missed your temper and your warmth more in these past days than all of my days knowing you combined," he continued, cupping her face with both of his hands, gently forcing her to look up at him while brushing her jaw with his thumbs. "I finally knew what it was like to have you, entirely, and then lose you. The physical torture was nothing compared to the idea that you, that they,” he looked down at her stomach, his words barely audible. “were lost to me forever.”

She wrapped her arms lightly around his neck, making sure not to hurt him as she did so. He brushed the rest of the tears from her face and smiled at her through his own watery eyes. “I was afraid, for a moment," she paused, clearing her throat at a desperate attempt to gather her emotions. "I was afraid that you were lost to me too.”

“Ah, but you see my darling," he replied softly, tracing her lips with his finger, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. "I will always find my way back to you.”

His warm breath hit her mouth, instantly stirring up a desire she had buried the past week they were apart. Pushing herself up slightly on her toes, she pressed her lips against his, feeling alive, feeling calm once more as his mouth began caressing hers. His hand moved up and slid back down her neck, his firm yet gentle grip on her skin sending strong waves of carnal need throughout her. She held herself back only momentarily before grasping a fist full of his hair, pulling him deeper into her. She waited impatiently for his mouth to open ever so slightly before thrusting her tongue inside, searching wildly for his own.

Her passion, her craving for him was unlike anything he had sensed from her before. As ridiculous as it sounded, she felt as though she would immediately cease to be if he didn't take her now, as she was. She dug her fingers into his back, pulling his hips forcefully against hers suggestively, already feeling the length of his cock growing against her. He smiled into her mouth at her wantonness and carefully pulled the tunic over her head while lifting her effortlessly onto the desk, leaving her legs dangling off the edge. He reached behind her to shove any remaining books onto the ground, his strong arms supporting her back as he carefully laid her down.

She loved how desired he made her feel as he stared down at her exposed body, his eyes wandering over every inch of her. He felt himself harden completely as he slid his hands up the front of her body to touch her breasts, moving to her upper chest and then to her neck. He wrapped a single hand around it, putting pressure ever so slightly before releasing his dominant grip and trailing his fingers slowly back down her torso to her thighs. Moving her legs apart with both hands, he knelt down between them and wasted no time placing his mouth between her folds. 

Sif moaned as his long, gentle tongue entered her cunt, making a slow, torturous line from her entrance to her clit. He moaned at the intoxicating taste of her, pushing her legs further apart so as to enter her deeper. He glanced up menacingly, watching her face as he pleasured her, feeling his cock throb at the sight of her so wet and exposed to him. She felt her own slickness against his tongue as he leisurely circled the area, alternating between licking and sucking and taking her sensitive skin lightly between his teeth. She fidgeted as his long, cold fingertips teased her entrance, not at all prepared for the intense pleasure she was about to feel. As he slipped a single finger into her, his mouth not leaving her clit, she closed her eyes and gasped, arching her back up while opening her mouth, her expression almost pained, though he knew better. He loved how undone she came at his touch; loved the way she bit down on her lip as a second finger entered her, loved the way her nipples stiffened, just asking for his mouth to be around them.

Her fingertips reached down the desk toward him, and her eyes met his, begging for him to fill her aching need. He was a greedy man when it came to her. There was no part of her he didn’t want to take his sweet time exploring, but his erection was beginning to pain him and his desire to feel her walls around him was urgent. He slowed his fervent actions, kissing her cunt once more before standing up and releasing the towel around his waist. She propped herself up on her elbows, her mouth watering at the desire to feel his massive erection at the back of her throat, but he immediately took hold of her neck and gently forced her back down. 

He reached around to grab a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her bottom to the edge of the desk, his hardness resting at her entrance. He stared down at her for a split second, his face unreadable, his expression almost dark. In one swift go, without much of a warning, he slammed into her, throwing his head back at the sensation of her tight, wet warmth wrapped around him. It was too good. Sif opened her mouth to scream with pleasure as his cock stretched her, but nothing came out. After a minute of trying to catch her breath, she managed to stifle a moan while digging her nails into the wood, using the leverage to grind harder and deeper against his cock, finding her own rhythm along with his. She opened her eyes lazily, noticing his eyes were closed, wondering where he was at the moment. She watched as his grave expression lightened, watched the pain and the worry leave his face as he fucked her, and in that moment, nothing could have given her greater pleasure. He was forgetting, even if only for a moment, and she was thankful. 

She propped herself back up on her elbows and reached up, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, pulling his chest firmly down against hers. He sighed against her lips at every exquisite thrust while she snaked her fingers through his hair, tugging down hard on the locks. She wrapped her arms and legs carefully around him, trying to be mindful of his wounds, but he scooped her up without a thought to them, cradling her carefully against him. He carried her over to the bed and she feigned submission for a moment as he crawled on top of her. Before he knew what was happening, she flipped over and pinned herself on top of him, making him laugh out loud as she did so. She smiled.  _There he is_ , she thought to herself.  _  
_

 

She slid her hands up his chest and kissed his forehead, groaning to herself as she felt the stone of the necklace knock him on the cheek. He smiled up at her still.

Her hands flew to her neck, making as though she were about to rip it off.

"No," Loki said , his face suddenly grave, his hand quickly moving to hers to stop her from removing it. "No. It stays on. It always stays on."

She pushed a loose strand of hair away from his face to quickly distract him from his worry, laughing when he tried to bite a finger she trailed across his lips. She watched with secret delight at the change of his expression when she lowered herself back down onto him. 

" _Sif,"_ he cried, throwing his head back while gingerly grabbing onto her waist with both hands. She braced herself with her arms behind her on his thighs and rode him harder as he began thrusting his hips into hers, matching her fervency. He licked his finger and began working her clit once more, small moans escaping hers lips as he began bringing her closer to the edge. 

He watched in awe as her form rocked against him, savoring the beautiful sound of her sighs, feeling nothing but her sweetness all around him. There was only her, and now and nothing else existed. As she moved against him, faster and faster, he felt his own climax quickly build and at the very moment of their unraveling, he let out an intense cry of relief and sat up to hold her just in time for her to collapse into his arms.

He found himself unable to will himself to move as he held her against his chest, feeling and hearing the intensity of her heart pounding. She buried her face in his neck and sank deeper against him, trying hard to fight the severe fatigue that had now completely taken over after her intense release. She was beyond exhausted, but she could still not bring herself to let go of him. 

It wasn't until he heard her breathing get heavier that he realized she was so on the edge of sleep's hold. Pulling the sheets down with one hand while still holding her with another, he picked her up and placed her down upon the pillow, covering her with the blankets and climbing in next to her. 

He laid on his side, watching her for a while, his hand gently caressing her stomach, noticing it had grown a bit since their last time together. He tried to leave her completely alone, knowing full that she needed sleep, but the moment was too beautiful to let go of yet. He didn't want to let go of her. Not now, not ever.

"Loki?" she would whisper every once in a while, ever so slightly, caught somewhere between sleep and awake. She would call for him, he would respond, and she wouldn't say anymore. Not until the very last time, just before he too was about to fall asleep. 

_"Loki?"_

"Yes?" he responded softly, obligingly, his eyes closed.

"Thank you... for saving me...," she said in between breaths, so quietly that he barely heard her.

He opened his eyes one last time to look at her, gently squeezing her hand that was still in his.

If only she realized, she had very much saved him. 


End file.
